Etch
by jlho
Summary: A mission statement, tattoos and Chapstick cause lives to intersect in Sin City. What words do you want written on your skin? AH
1. Choice

**Prologue**

BPOV

I stumbled into my room, with its light blue accents and high ceiling. The cold wood of the floor felt foreign on my blistered feet. Cringing as I walked passed the wall, I took no comfort in the image that resided there. It was a symbol of everything I had gained and lost over the last ten years. My music stayed off, the lights were dimmed and an Oasis tee shirt hung from the knob on my closet. I pulled it off and wadded it in my hands.

"You stupid, stupid man," I whimpered into the faded gray fabric. "Dammit Edward."

I didn't know what was worse. The opportunity to say goodbye, or having no notice. No time for any final explanation, a thank you, or repentance. To see the light go out of someone's eyes who you love so fiercely and freely, that you believed the intensity of it would level you or to concoct the last moments of their life in your own imagination. What their screams must have sounded like, the fear and the pain flashed through them in the seconds before their death?

There is no good answer.

Because frankly, they both fucking suck.

I took a steading breath, along with one last grasp of the shirt and released it. The soft cotton slipped through my fingers, as I let it go.

I had an objective to being here, not that I didn't always, but this time things were incredibly different. As I sat down in front of my Mac and turned it on, the last ten years of my life flashed unbidden before my eyes, some faces appeared more than others, but I recognized them all. I fought back the emotion that threatened to split me in half, because this wasn't about my tears or my pain and it never had been. It had always been what I was going to do about it.

How I was going to make the world better one person at a time. Even if it killed me.

I read over my mission statement. The one that started all this so many years ago. It seemed simple then.

_Choice. _

_It's a simple word. Six letters._

_If you ask a million people the meaning of this word, you will get generalized definition such as; picking one option from few or multiple selections. _

_However, ask a person to confide a choice that they've made individually and you will get as many different answers as individuals you have asked. _

_The solitary choices we make define us as individuals and either; propel us forward, launch us backward or hold us in stagnancy. _

_They are substantial or menial, have to be made quickly or are allotted a great length of time, they align with good or evil or mean absolutely nothing, but once you have adhered to it, you own it. _

_It becomes a part of you. _

_It is your history and depending on how encompassing it is, can also own others as well. It will become part of their history. _

_The multihued tapestry that makes up you. The large and the small, the inconsequential and the massive, all weaving together in words of decision and resolution. _

_Do you wear them on the outside? Wrap yourself in them? Or do they all show themselves, as if written underneath the skin?_

_All the words blaring and bulging beneath the surface? Scraping against your veins, your bones, tendons and muscles for a chance to be seen. _

_For a chance to tell your story. _

_When your story is over, what words do you want to be etched into your skin? What about the lives of the people you touch?_

_Enlightened. Happy. Fulfilled. Assured. Blessed. Loved. _

_I want these words etched into mine, along with many others. _

_I'm making it my personal mission to help the world, and in turn, help myself._

_One word at a time. _

I never imagined that by starting a blog and posting a drunken ramble on it, my life would irreparably change_. _

_Apparently both Jerry Maguire and I should refrain from writing mission statements while inebriated. _

It was as my webcam turned on and the red light glowed that I saw a new, almost unrecognizable person staring back at me. She was a little worse for wear, her dark brown hair was pulled back and there were bags under her eyes, but she was still there, just different.

_Actually, I looked like I had been run over by a bus and dragged for ten miles along a dirt road. I wasn't pretty in any sense of the word right then, but whatever. I wasn't there to share beauty tips. I was there to say goodbye and it's always better to break up with someone when you looked like shit. Right? _

It was with that thought I started to speak and realized that the closure of a goodbye was inarguably better than nothing. Even if nobody was around to hear it, I was here to say it.

I had been left behind, but not left alone. I would at least give my followers the same courtesy kismet had given me.

"Welcome to the final broadcast of Project Etch."

**Hello Again**

**Fair warning- this is far different from Sexy Silk, but I hope you'll still enjoy it**

Mad love to my beta and pre-reader, everyone who encouraged me to post my latest endeavor, and anyone that takes the time to read it:)


	2. Gifts

My father always told me I could be anything I wanted.

_I don't think this is quite what he had in mind when he relayed that sentiment. _

"Look at the tits on that one."

He was the fourth drunken asshole in an hour to slur out his unrequested approval of my tits, my can or my legs.

"Can I get you gentleman anything this evening?" I asked suggestively, humoring their altered states and taking a moment to remind myself why I was standing here in a skimpy sequined hoochie dress and four inch heels.

_Angela will lose her job. _I kept repeating over and over in my head.

_Angela will lose her job. _

_Angela will…_

"How about a scotch with a slice of this sweetness?" The older gentleman, and I use the term loosely, hummed while pinching my left ass cheek. I had covered for Angela a few times over the last couple months because of her severe morning sickness and had grown accustomed to the crude comments, but not the ass pinching.

_ "Look, but don't touch" didn't seem to apply if you were wearing a dress a hooker would second guess. _

A younger, blond, male companion snickered along and both continued to ogle me for far longer than I was comfortable with.

_Three moves. I could kill you both in three moves. _

A pseudo smile graced my overly red lips. "Maybe for desert if you play your cards right, Honey."

_Vomit. Self-respect is optional as a cocktail waitress. This guy better leave a tip that puts the net worth Warren Buffet to shame. _

Come to think of it, this asshole looked a little like Buffett.

"But I'm playing Craps, Darling." He pointed out like I hadn't noticed him hunched over the crowded table. The stickman, Ben, Angela's soon to be husband, thanked me with a half smile and sympathetic eyes as he pushed the dice over to the next roller.

"Looks like you're playing the wrong game." I took an order for a dirty martini and manhattan, before making my retort.

There was a pause and the table quieted slightly, but the rest of the floor was a constant drone of gaming pings, music and voices. "We're in Las Vegas. Every game is the right one."

I couldn't hold my tongue. It wasn't in my nature, especially not with a misogynistic asshole calling me out.

"Only if it pays."

He ran a bony finger down my arm and took a step closer. Our altercation forgotten by the crowd, as some other schmuck rolled the dice. "How much do you cost to play?"

"Exponentially more than you can afford," I sneered.

Though instead of taking my hint, he pursued me and gripped my bicep, ranting about how he's "not to be ignored" and how "rejecting him was the stupidest move I could've made." His raving and grasp on my arm were short lived however, because security had not so kindly, though ever so quickly, escorted him out.

It was people like him that occasionally made me wonder if I was doing the right thing with my life. Or if I had been wasting my time on a lost cause.

I pondered this for several more hours while walking and serving throngs of increasingly drunk gamblers. When the shift finally ended, I had a stack a tips for Angela, which she would undoubtedly use on her mother's diabetes medication. I understood why she wouldn't let me pay for it, but it didn't mean I had to like it. I meandered through the Bellagio's crowded lobby, passing the blown rainbow colored glass adorned ceiling and flower laden reservation desks, out the main front doors and into the oppressing heat of a desert night.

My black flip-flops, black tank and vintage blue jeans seemed to cling to me the second I stepped outside.

_Maybe I should have stayed in the hoochie dress. _

There were lines of limos, taxis and town cars waiting to drop people off, and the valets rushing to get the high rollers their rides quickly for a few dollars more. The entrance was swathed in travelers, business and tourists alike, taken aback with what they considered grandeur and beauty.

_This is hells waiting room. How the fuck could anyone find this beautiful?_

I ran a quick swipe of cherry Chapstick over my cracked lips and put my hair up to get it off my neck before starting off to the bus stop, when I spotted him. The graying, misogynistic asshole, was just outside the entrance looking around the swirling stream of people, when his blue eyes caught mine. I was so not in the mood for this, I reached in my bag and lit a smoke quickly, sizing up the situation. He was making a bee line for me and this time, I wasn't on the clock and no one's job was on the line.

His question echoed louder than it should have been for the amount of noise. "Tsk, you're such a beautiful woman. Why are you tainting your magnificent body?"

I took a deep drag and blew a couple of smoke rings. "Because I can."

"I hope you'll forget our _disagreement_ earlier. " He appeared anything but ashamed. "It's simply not in my nature to accept rejection, but then I realized that you would have to appear disinterested to keep up your employment here. No fraternizing with the customers and whatever cockamamie regulations they made you agree to."

_Cockamamie? Do people even still use that word? _

"Our secret would be safe with me." He was attempting to pour on charm that he couldn't have channeled with a crystal ball and a third eye. Then proceeded to ask if I would like to have a nightcap across the street at the Venetian as it was clearly a higher brow establishment and he thought a "sophisticated" woman, such as myself, would appreciate a taste of luxury.

I don't think he had the first clue what any woman wanted, let alone me. As I would have preferred to be getting my eat on at a food truck, than standing there talking to a self-absorbed loser like him.

"Luxury is where you find it, and I don't drink." My tone was final and I snuffed my smoke out with my shoe as my eyes challenged him to continue.

"I don't think you understand. The pretense is over." And it certainly was. He grasped my wrist and squeezed. The anger rising steadily in his voice, but the tenor was unwavering as he spoke gruffly in my ear.

"I'm going to fuck you. Either you can take it, like the good little slut you are or you can scream, but you are coming with me."

My mother always told me my body was my temple.

_And to kick the shit out of anyone who attempted to take it over by force. _

A twist of his wrist, a quick elbow to his ribcage and a heel stomp had him on the ground gasping for breath.

I hated doing that, especially to an older person, but the asshole had it coming. I guess age didn't denote dignity or manners.

_And they bitch about our generation._

The next thing I knew I was pushed into a patch of people, and clipped one of them pretty good. I heard a grunt as my arm was grasped and my balance was restored.

"Little bitch! What did you do to him?" The blond companion was at the misogynist's side, checking him over as he helped him off the ground. He must have pushed me as he strode through the crowd. "He has a heart condition!"

"You mean he lacks one!" I corrected. "Maybe he'll think about that the next time he tries to take someone against their will! There's nothing more educational than a practical lesson in humility!"

The misogynist was clutching his chest and groaning, and the blond was yelling for help and ushering him over to a bench. People were starting to stare, but no one was calling an ambulance and security was just now emerging out of the doors.

The blonde was getting hysterical. "Was it worth killing him!"

_He deserved it. _

_He deserved it. _

_Dammit. The last thing I need is for the sleazy moron to kneel over. _

The bastard took that moment to completely slump over and stop moving and I ran over to both of them. I couldn't be responsible for someone's death, even if he was a potential rapist.

After laying him flat on his back and checking his vitals, I questioned the companion as calmly and impartially as I could. "He has no pulse and he's not breathing. Do you know CPR?"

The blond jackass was horrified. "Don't touch him!"

I ignored the idiot and immediately started doing rescue breaths and chest compressions.

_One._

_Two._

_Come on asshole. _

_Six. _

_Seven. _

_Dammit. _

The crowd was gasping and panicking as security arrived with the defibrillator. Using very practiced procedures, the security and hotel staff alike, speedily cleared people away, including me.

Time froze as they worked on him.

Seconds turned into minutes, and I knew I was holding my breath.

"Got a heartbeat!" one of the security officers called as the siren of the ambulance came closer.

And I could breathe again.

I gave my statement to the police as the misogynist was loaded in the back of the ambulance and the crowd slowly dispersed. The officer was confused by my behavior of course, and asked me why I would attempt to save someone who's obviously a "sick individual" and had accosted me not once, but twice. I simply told him, "Good Samaritan. It's not my job to punish the wicked."

_I only wanted to protect myself. I'm not a vigilante. _

I needed to get the hell out of there and end this God forsaken night before the media showed up. This wasn't going to be an easy one to explain and I simply didn't have the energy.

I took off towards the fountain, so I could disappear in the people waiting for the show. I blended in seamlessly, walking with my bag and tightening my ponytail, just like any other tourist. Though my thoughts weren't on the arching water or soft spray that was coming off the breeze. My thoughts were on what the fuck I was doing with myself. How much longer was I going to continue this? Until I was in a walker? Until I was dead? Until I made a decision that ultimately cost someone their life? There were a ton of people around and not one of them lifted a finger to help that man, and no one even heard him threaten me. We are all just nameless faces to one another, someone else's concern.

Someone else's problem.

_I just need a fucking sign. Anything. _

I charged myself with this crusade and helped multiple people, but I'm not infallible and in some instances, I didn't know if I was doing more harm or good.

_At least misogynist got his wish and got to fuck me. Even if it was only a mindfuck. _

I looked briefly at the dancing streams, in an attempt at clearing my head of the negativity. Jake dragged me over to those damn fountain shows so many times I had lost count. He said it reminded him of when he was a kid and would dance in the spray of his front yard sprinklers. We knew every song that they paired the show with now. I won't lie, I might have had to pull him back from jumping in when it was paired with "My Heart Will Go On."

_Jake. _

I smiled. I always thought of him when I had any doubts about what I was doing. Every time I was dumped by a man who didn't understand it, or slammed by a journalist that didn't get it, he was there. He was my rock and I thanked God every day he came into my life, though I wish it could have happened differently. It was because of him and so many others, a few of which I couldn't think of too often, that I would keep fighting the good fight.

_That, and I'm certifiable. _

Noticing I was halfway passed the wall of people surrounding the manmade lake, I stopped to dig through my bag and find my Chapstick. I needed the nasty taste of pervert lips off of mine, but it was like the Houdini of lip balm and was no where to be found. I kept rifling through my bag and patting down my pockets searching for it, when I felt someone's eyes on me. Turning quickly, and catching his gaze with my own I was met with the greenest, yet the most discontented set of eyes I had ever seen. They belonged to a younger man, with dark brown hair and copper highlights who was wearing a gray Oasis tee and blue jeans. He appeared irked and disjointed while he stood staring at me with an unapparent presumption. I didn't know what I expected to come out of his mouth, but it certainly wasn't what he said.

"I've been trying to get your attention since your Q and A with the police." The edge of upset in his voice evident. "The roulette of shit kicking and CPR and must've deafened you."

My response was a look of disbelief and molding my body into a protective stance. I already dealt with one overbearing chauvinist. My patience was worn thread thin and shredding by the microfiber in the passing seconds.

"And rendered you mute." He bobbed his head minutely as his eyes darted around my face, like he was trying to ascertain if this was true.

I stayed quiet, listening to the blaring music and watching him shift on his feet. Again, I was sizing up the situation. He was alone and his stance was more defensive than mine, as he stood there waiting for me to speak.

"Unless you actually are mute and deaf, which would make you shouting at the two blowhards a temporary miracle, and myself a witness."

"I'm not a mute." I didn't want to be rude, but my defenses were in overdrive and didn't really feel like discussing what happened.

"Hallelujah. She speaks." His voice was flatter and more irritated.

His attitude was upsetting to me to say the least. The hostility and biting sarcasm was vaguely familiar and left me wondering if I had given classes at one point and forgotten. The sounds of spouting water, trying repeatedly to defy gravity, crashing and rippling the unsettled lake again and again was drowning out the steady conversation of the crowd around us.

"Yes. It's a miracle of Jesus-like proportions," I responded in kind, my remark louder than I meant it. "Did you have an objective in following me?"

A challenging look crept into his eyes. "Well, as I can't walk on water and can only perform garden variety miracles, I'm going to make something of yours appear out of thin air."

"That's not a miracle. That's magic."

"Not quite." He reached into his pocket, but his big reveal was short lived because a huge baggie

of different sized and multicolored pills dislodged. A few scattered on the ground.

I pinched my eyes shut as I saw him dive to the ground to presumably pick them up. I blew out a breath and wondered what my next move was. His demeanor was incredibility hard to read. The pills and the harshness were somewhat of an indicator, but I didn't want to assume the worst. I'd handled addicts and dealers before, but he wasn't fitting the description of either.

I wanted to keep him talking long enough to understand why he was carrying the contents of Walgreens in his pocket. "What are you? An apothecary?"

"Apothecary? You have one of those word a day calendars at home don't you?" The wayward pills were back in their clear home and being quickly reinserted into his pocket. He shifted nervously and smoothed back over a mask that until then, I didn't realize he had in place. "I actually wanted to return this."

I gasped when he held out my Chapstick.

"Cherry. Very Katy Perry of you. Kiss many girls?" He dropped the joke as the tube hit my hand. I rolled my eyes. "I was rockin' Chapstick before Katy made it cool." I uncapped and started running it over my lips, while he continued to stare at me. I picked apart the reasons for the pills in my head as I pressed my lips together.

_Terminally ill. Too healthy looking. _

_Novice dealer or user. Not even the same MO. _

_Suicidal. _

"Just so you know, I used it. My lips were pretty dry."

_At least he's honest, if not a little creepy for using a stranger's Chapstick._

I snickered. "If the price of moist lips is sharing it with a stranger who was nice enough to return it, then it's worth the germs."

He smirked. "Are you implying I'm dirty?"

"I'm sure you could be, if you were so inclined." It was nice to talk to someone who actually had more wits than a wilted plant. Which made the curiosity over the collection of pills in his pocket all the more unnerving.

A slight bow of his head and a peek of a mischievous smile told me I was right. He was painted shades of heartbreaker and outlined in bad boy, but there was a vulnerability and a sadness that overshadowed it.

_Suicidal. _

My heart sank a little. It was unconscionable to me how someone so bright and charming, could be considering something entirely heinous and wasteful. My instincts were screaming at me to keep him talking while my brain slowly devised a plan, and my hormones noticed he wasn't exactly hard on the eyes.

_He's fucking gorgeous, but why split hairs? _

"Thanks for this." I held up the Chaptstick with a small grin and pocketed it. I pursed my lips so as not to stumble over what I was going to say. He couldn't expect me to believe that he followed me solely for an insignificant tube of moisturizer. "I don't know if I would have survived without it. What would I have done without you?"

My words were purposefully chosen, inviting him in.

He shrugged and shook his head, thinking I was being disingenuous. "Probably, bought another stick and gotten the fuck on with your night."

He went to leave and I took two steps forward, determined not to let him get any further, but he turned abruptly and almost bumped into me. He was somewhat startled turning around to see me right on his heels, but he looked more focused and determined.

"I have to know why you did that?" His strong hands were on my shoulders, weighting me to the ground. He quickly let go, realizing that what he was doing wasn't particularly appropriate, his arms falling to his sides. "Why did you try to save him after...?"

_Finally some clarity. _ The altercation and subsequent events must have sparked a curiosity in him. Enough for him to follow me instead of immediately following through with his intentions. I gave him the most basic answer I could.

"It was the right thing to do."

He nodded in understanding after a second or two of mulling over what I said. "Just like keeping you from falling."

"That was you?" I was surprised at myself. Normally, I would have taken the time to thank whoever it was that had saved me from falling on my face, but I was amped up on so much adrenaline, I had forgotten. He smiled sadly. "I could have moved and let you land on your ass, but even I'm not that much of a jerkoff."

The self-depreciating comment solidified my worries about his state of mind. "Thanks for not being a jerkoff."

"Thanks for the smooth lips." The lighthearted atmosphere was becoming shadowed by my worrisome thoughts. The lights that formally illuminated the nearby water, dimmed as the streams crashed in eccentric succession.

"Will smooth lips matter much after downing that many pills?" I was never really one for subtly anyway and I felt any minute could be my last with him. I rather him tell me I was out of my mind, then have him walk away wondering. If I could help him in any way, I was going to try.

His body tensed and he appeared to be trying to contain himself. "What the fuck difference is it to you?"

"It might affect my mood tomorrow to know that a decent guy is lying in permanent cold storage, instead of returning Chapstick and keeping another girl from falling on her ass." I swallowed, as the confirmation hit me hard. "What kind of person would I be if I didn't demand those pills and tell you what a mistake I think you're going to make?"

"At least I wouldn't have to live with it." His short laugh was grave, but it was definitely a starting point.

"But I would." The reminder seemed daunting to him, as he ran his hand over his neck and huffed. "I'd know this really nice guy who was standing in front of me is now gone because I didn't do something."

"I could be a total dick, you know?" His resolve was lessening, if only slightly. He took a short step backward.

"Better to have a live dick then a dead one. Don't you think?" I waited a few seconds, making eye contact several times, seeing nothing but interest and confusion. I gauged his reaction as I took a step forward and held my hand out for the pills. "Give them to me."

He proceeded to laugh at me. The smile that accompanied it caught me off guard, it was infectious and alluring concurrently. Even though he was laughing at me, and the severity of the situation wasn't lost on me, I couldn't help but smile too. I waited patiently for him to finish, as the people around as "oohed" and "awed" over the dancing water.

"I'm sorry. Really. But I think that's the most motherly anyone has ever acted with me." His laughter trailed off as the show reached its crescendo. "First you make me question my decision to get off this dirt ball, now you're trying to take my pills away. Fortunately, I'm toilet trained, but I'm sure I could discover a few owies you can kiss. Don't expect me to call you mommy though. "

"Are you finished?" I wasn't going to let him continue to have a hold on the pills any longer than necessary. I knew from experience that it wouldn't really stop him from killing himself if that's what he was intent on doing, but it was a step in the right direction. "Don't make me take them by force."

His brow raised, and a pandering smile gripped his lips. "I'm suicidal. You threatening to go Layla Ali on me, isn't exactly intimidating." He shoved the baggie back in his pocket and popped his neck. "Could you watch my face though? I'm hoping for an open casket."

"Those that talk about it rarely ever do it," I challenged, still thinking of a way to wrestle the pills from him.

He cleared his throat and took a step closer. "You want to make a bet?"

I couldn't legitimately make it. I doubt he knew that though. I'm sure he thought my actions with the misogynist earlier were based on a guilty conscious rather than a personal calling. I needed some time to gain his trust. Clearly this was a cry for help, if he truly wanted to die, he would have been dead by now. I had to break him out of whatever funk he was in and validate him somehow.

_And get those fucking pills away from him. _

"When in Rome."

He scoffed and lowered his arms. "The City of Sin is hardly Rome."

"The Roman columns of the casino next door beg to differ."

"You're one of those people? Aren't you?"

"If you mean extremely intelligent and engaging, then yes."

"I meant always having the last word," he corrected. I determined right then that he wasn't wholly depressed, but maybe more disenchanted and depreciative of his life. He saw no value to being here, and I couldn't imagine why someone as clever and entertaining as he was, would ever have that problem.

_His CK model looks probably weren't hurting his cause either. _

"What are we, but our words? And yes." Another genuine smile lit up his face and coincided with a crash of water.

"Well, I'm a man of action. And as enlightening as this all has been, I'm late for a date with a table, a hooker with a huge rack and final lullaby sung by my friends Jack and Ambien." As he spoke, his arm crossed over his chest and scratched his left bicep, raising the sleeve and exposing his skin.

_I could practically hear Bill Engvall saying "Here's your sign"_

There was a back of a girl with her long dark hair draped over her shoulder and words written all over her skin. I'd drawn that six years ago now, and had been looking at it every day for the same amount of time. There were no words to describe how my one-of-a-kind tattoo, was on the arm of a stranger.

I wondered if anyone around us noticed the finger of God pointing at me or heard him laughing about how I had just been Punk'd.

In a moment of pure compulsion, I grabbed his arm and wrenched up the sleeve of his shirt again. My eyes scanning and rescanning in the yellow glow of the lights. The tattoo signaling me like a beacon.

"If you're going to get rough, can you tie me up first?"

"Where…where did you get that?" I stuttered.

He tensed a little, but let me continue to hang on to his arm and marvel. "I got this in San Francisco at Omen Ink. It was done by an artist who was," he chuckled and continued, "horrified by body piercings."

"Which is ironic because his name is Pierce," I interrupted, completely perplexed as my eyes met his. Pierce professed that tattooing was his passion and foretelling the future was his forte. The last thing he told me before I left San Francisco was now burning a hole in the forefront of my brain.

He looked alarmed, and pulled his arm away. "How the hell did you know what?"

"Because this is the original I drew in 2005," I responded, pulling back the fabric of my shirt by my right shoulder and turning around. I didn't hear him move but I could feel him next to me, as I tried to douse the flaming words to embers.

"Holy shit." The warm breath of his exclamation brushed my shoulder and the back of my neck. My skin exploded, it was like the first chord of my favorite song had just hit my ears and brought a smile to my face.

"Actually they're different. You have doves." His words danced across my sensitive skin again. "I have stars."

"I asked him for swans," I cleared my throat and head, readjusting my shirt. "But he had already done the three doves by the time I looked. I didn't have the heart to correct him, or the pain tolerance for getting it fixed." This wasn't entirely true, though going into the actual explanation didn't seem prudent.

He laughed genuinely. "You can bring a man to his knees, but making doves into swans was too painful?"

"You'll notice, I didn't incur any pain from that exchange."

"Lucky I was there to keep your pretty face from making intimate friends with the sidewalk."

It was past time to change the direction of the conversation. "How did you decide on that? Was Pierce offering a two for one special?"

I knew this wasn't the case, but I wanted to hear his explanation.

He shook his head slightly. "I couldn't decide what I wanted. I knew I wanted something meaningful, but the Chinese characters, animals and Celtic stuff seemed too mainstream." He took a deliberate pause and kept his eyes on the fountain. "Pierce said a special woman in his life had drawn it and she'd given him something that meant everything. Since the women in my life had only ever given me grief, I thought it might change my luck."

"And why the stars if you don't mind my asking?"

"Personal preference," he skirted. "Who knew I was I was desecrating a masterpiece of his ex."

I scoffed. "That sounded _almost_ unassuming. Pierce and I were never involved."

"Unrequited," he surmised. "Poor idiot. Poor _unskilled _idiot."

I felt the need to clarify. "No, that tattoo parlor, I gave him the down payment and helped him get his license."

"In exchange for?" The questioned lingered, his shock evident.

"The tattoo."

"And?"

"And a promise to keep in touch. Apparently, I should have also made him promise not to go around using my design." I did my best to roll my eyes and shrug, in an attempt to play it off as nothing. My thoughts were rampant, but I did my best to hush them all. As amazing an artist as Pierce was, I doubted his insight into my future was nearly as flawless.

The still unknown man appeared unsure as he stood there looking me over. It wasn't objectifying, but probing none the less. The way his eyes roved over me, trying to fit pieces of coded information in the correct slots. People generally couldn't figure me out. It wasn't something I wanted anyway.

Removing the pills from his pocket and taking a swift breath, he handed them to me, but kept his fingers wrapped around them. "I'll only give you these, if you promise to spend the night with me."

The bag in my hand and the prospect of spending time with him, sparked a second wind. "I charge by the hour."

He laughed and released the bag into my hand. "We'll do whatever you want. If sex happens to be a part of the equation, I'll consider it a bonus."

"Alright Oasis, you've got yourself a date."

"It's Edward actually," he informed with a grin. "Should I call you Layla? Or do you prefer Chapstick Girl?"

My head started playing How to Save a Life and Over My Head in a roundabout. "Bella will be just fine."

The chatter started up in earnest after the final note and last splash. The former audience broke apart and began to walk on to their next distraction. As we found our niche in the river of people, I heard a woman ask her friend what music had been playing. I leaned over and with a triumphant smile and informed her of the title.

_Small Gifts. _


	3. Filthy

BPOV

"You're lying."

"Not my style, the truth is way more entertaining."

"Peeps? Those marshmallow things? How is that the most popular Easter candy? It's not technically even candy."

"Granulated sugar components designate anything as candy."

The walk past Serendipity's somehow got us talking about different types of candy. We hadn't discussed what our plan was for the night or where we were going, but it really didn't matter. I knew without a shadow of a doubt it was were I was supposed to be.

"I put sugar in my coffee. It doesn't make it candy. What about baking? Cakes aren't candy." He was arguing, really well. The level of conviction was almost funny. I wondered briefly if he was a lawyer. "By your definition, pies, donuts and ice cream are all a member of the candy family."

"Okay fine. I've hereby had my definition of what constitutes candy corrected by the Dean of Sugar." I conceded the point and realized the argument was ridiculous. My stomach was on empty and I knew the perfect place to continue our insipid conversation. After discovering he was up for anything as long as I didn't try to feed him 'non-candy', demonic looking marshmallows, I pulled out my phone and started scouting the locale of my favorite food truck. I noticed we only had an hour before it was gone for the night and we would have to settle for strip food, which I hated, but he might prefer; I asked him if we could hurry up the sight seeing tour and get to some real food.

"You want to take a cab? We can be there in fifteen. The bus will take longer."

"Dean of Sugar? Sounds like a character from Candy Land." He appeared concerned. "No car?"

"I have one, just not here. What? Too good for public transit?"

"Let's take a cab."

After twenty minutes, twenty dollars, and an extremely heated discussion about Robin's Eggs, we made it into a parking lot and my favorite big red truck was still open for business.

"Fuku Burger? They have one of these in Hollywood," he laughed. Though the tension in his features, made it clear he regretted it.

At least it was a small piece of information. There hand't been any clear cut lines about what would and wouldn't be revealed, but the impression he wasn't going to share much was fairly apparent.

"A Cali boy, huh?"

"For the most part." Seemingly indifferent to where he was from, he slipped the cabbie a tip and shut the door. Dennis, the driver, was bound to have a good night. I had already given him a c-note, in addition to the twenty.

"You thought Vegas would be a better place to check out?" My insinuation was clear. I wondered why he would choose to come across state lines to kill himself.

"I figured what the hell? There are worst places to die."

I nodded minutely and forced a smile, realizing he was finished. "Do you Fuku?"

"Bless you."

I laughed lightly. "Obviously, you need more than my suicidas interruptus services tonight. Let me introduce you to the best burger you will ever have." His brilliant smile returned, and his hand settled into mine, his eyes silently asking me for permission.

I swallowed uncomfortably and smiled up at him awkwardly. "You're the one who said this was a date."

The simple reminder caused me to relax and nod. I was going to be whatever he needed tonight.

_Why does that sound extremely subservient and hookerish? _

As we reached the line, I greeted a few people I recognized and of course John gave me a look when he saw my hands clasped with a new guy and couldn't keep his mouth shut. We were both Fuku nuts and tended to frequent the truck whenever we could and I had only ever brought Jake with me, so I'm sure it was a surprise to him.

"B," he started with his nickname for me as he walked around us. "You come around here all the time, I offer you nothing less than undying devotion and you shoot me down. We got a thing goin' on." He crooned the last part, using his cell phone as a microphone, then shot Edward a glare during his final warble. I could feel Edward's hand tense in mine and I absently stoked my thumb over the back in a gesture of assurance.

"Correction. _You_ have a thing." I let my eyes drift lower and linger. "Goin' on." I knew it would piss him off and distract him from his irritation over Edward.

"Only until December, cỏn dĩ!" He proceeded to reel off a string of profanities.

"Dụ má may!" I finally barked with a laugh and ambled slowly to the front of the line, Edward in tow.

John walked backwards with a hand over his chest and blew me a kiss. "I love you, B."

We had known each other for almost a year and we had yet to have a conversation that didn't end in us going off on each other, it was abnormal at best.

I waved over my shoulder with my free hand. "Same tune, different day."

"We meet everyday at the same cafe." John's last words echoed off the strip mall as he disappeared into one of the shops.

Edward was staring at me, as I stood at the window and waited to make our orders. "What?"

"Clearly you've been around."

I interlaced my fingers behind my head and stretched, popping my knuckle inadvertently. "It doesn't take a globetrotter to tell a Vietnamese bisexual off."

The gleam that shown in his eyes, caused me to grin, "She says casually after her linguistic prowess gives her away."

I watched as his eyes caught sight of the exposed sliver of my stomach and his tongue ran over his lips. "I'm sure it my linguistic prowess that's causing you to drool."

The atmosphere grew less sexually charged as the Tamago burgers slide past our lips, though the noises I'd been making, sounded like I was climaxing, not eating.

_My mind was instantly flooded with images of Edward fingers trailing over my body in wanton ways while…Jesus. _

_I didn't count on needing a bib for between my legs._

_This guy is a flight risk, don't push a jumper. _

We set a slow cadence with our steps. He slowed down for me several times while I attempted to keep pace with his long strides. Our conversation filled in a few pieces of random personal information here and there, though nothing substantial. We were both guilty of simply living with the details the other gave. I didn't know his last name, what he did or exactly where he was from, but I knew he was funny, trustful and above anything, needed to remember life was a ride and we were only passengers.

I thought about the words _enjoy the ride_, but that led my thoughts back to places they shouldn't be.

Asian architecture inspired shops lined the street, advertising everything from cuisine to accounting services. The night sky, was never black, the neon lights tinted the sky with various colors into the early morning hours. It was nothing like where I grew up, where the nights were so dark you could hardly see a hand in front of your face. Where the only thing you could hear was a cricket, a tree cracking under the weight of the snow. I swallowed the last chunk of my burger to push down the emotion the was starting to creep forward.

"Reflexology? What place has reflexology and massage this time of night?" He noticed the neon open sign in the window.

"Places that are actually a brothel," I smiled. "Full body massage isn't a stretch by any means."

"Fuck." His irritation snapped the comfortable air around us.

"I could go in and work out a deal for you." I regretted saying it the second I had.

_If anyone is going to give the suicidal, elusive, bad boy a rub down, it should be me. _

I've got to stop thinking of him as anything other than someone who needs my help.

I pushed Pierce's words out of my head for the umpteenth time, along with the selfish, Penthouse letter thoughts, in order to focus. I wasn't going to let him down because I couldn't get a grip.

_Five seconds of picturing him naked, might help me fight a little harder though. _

"No, I meant my phone is going crazy. Who the hell…?" He took his phone out of his pocket and glared at it. I glared at it too and made a quick decision. I didn't want him to think about whoever or whatever had brought him here to die. Swiftly, I took his phone out of his hand before he could answer it. "You're dead. Remember?"

His quick agreement and concession of his phone was a welcome relief. "Six feet under."

I knew I was blurring a line that I shouldn't. His warm fingers brushed my face, and then were gone again, igniting little fires along the path, despite the heat of the night. I didn't understand his compulsion to touch my cheek, but I certainly wasn't complaining.

"I'm still trying to figure you out and I only have another," he looked at his watch "four hours. I don't want to waste a second of it."

I wanted to tell him that this wasn't about figuring me out, but should be about figuring himself out. An attempt to find some purpose, or happiness in what must have been a desperate existence for him. I however, didn't say anything along those lines, because I was being incredibly selfish.

And insurmountably stupid.

It was with these words that I crossed the threshold and there was no going back. "What did you want to do while you're dead?"

"Live."

My relief was palpable over his instantaneous answer and for all the reasons I shouldn't have been, and some that I should, I was happy. "Let's get you back on the ride then."

—-

We took one more jaunt across the grid patterned streets, making use of another cab and close quarters of a unlit space. I had a very specific idea in mind of where I was going to take him, and tried not to focus on how I wanted to take him.

"Are you in a twelve step program or something?" His question was meant to be whimsical, but the curiosity was settled into it. We had been dancing carefully over the fragile water which neither of us knew the depths of. I hope I wouldn't inadvertently push him back into the cold, though hopefully shallow lake.

"No. Should you be?"

Sitting closer than we had during the last ride seemed to have a nice effect on him, and if I was being honest I didn't mind his hand on my knee.

"Most likely. I think the suicide hotline cut out the middle man tonight. Angels seem to be walking around kicking ass and taking pity."

A violent laugh shook me and my head hit the seat. "I'm hardly an angel. In fact, my horns and pitchfork are being upgraded as we speak."

"I almost intervened," he muttered. "When I saw him grab you."

His admission surprised me. I didn't know he had been that close, or anyone had seen what had gone on.

"Why?"

"Last chance for redemption." He glanced at me, green eyes meeting mine, the honesty in them stifling.

"Suppose I owed him money? Or had hurt his wife? Killed his dog?" I bated. "Wouldn't he have been justified?"

His smile turned into a sharp frown as he thought over what I said. "Why did he grab you?"

"He wanted to fuck me and I said no. He wasn't inclined to go along with my wishes. " It seemed simplistic to me. An act of compulsion spurred by rejection, which, if I hadn't stuck around, might have turned into his last.

The road noise hummed along with the speed of the car, the lights of a gas station and restaurants blurred by as the silence stretched on. "You should have let the fucker die."

I shook my head. "To serve what purpose?"

"To keep assholes like that off the street," he justified. "If you hadn't been able to kick the shit out of him, you could have ended up of some goddamn episode of Dateline."

I thought about it for a spilt second. "When did you see me drop my Chapstick?"

"What? When you were running back over to him and his friend."

"So, if you hadn't seen me try to resuscitate him, your family would be identifying your corpse in a few hours. And I wouldn't have dropped my Chapstick."

The implications of what I said were physically weighing him down, as he slumped forward and rested his head in his hands. I twisted my copper thumb ring a couple of times before quietly adding. "And I wouldn't have met you."

I caught a glimpse of a smile out of my peripheral vision. "I would have followed you without the excuse of lip lube."

His head perked up, and somehow even though his hand had raked through it, his hair still looked damn good. I wanted to run my hand through it to see if the same principal would apply, but I questioned him instead.

"Because you had to know why?"

"Yeah. That, and you have nice jugs." He smirked as the cab stopped and he quickly opened up the door. I giggled as he held his hand out, and overtly started down my top while helping me out of the cab.

—

"This place?" he questioned looking at the huge line. "Are you trying to torture me in my final hours? I hate lines. Really fucking hate the club scene."

His sudden anger, rippled through him and he turned around quickly and started walking to who knows where.

"Where are you going?"

He only slowed after several large steps. "Whatever you're trying to score here…" he trailed off. The pain sharp and focused, keeping rhythm with his pulse as it swam in his eyes. "You know what? I don't want to fucking know." He held up his hands in a defeated manner and continued to walk away.

Obviously, he had anger issues and some type of issue with substance abuse. Though, I was thinking it could be dangerous to meet his anger with my own, I decided to follow my instincts. They hadn't let me down yet.

"A book," I shouted. His steps slowed. "If that warrants being angry with me well then, carry the fuck on."

I turned on my heel and walked towards the bouncer, only ninety-five percent sure Edward would be back at my side shortly.

A scrape of footsteps on the sidewalk behind me told me I had done exactly the right thing.

"Look, I'm…"

"Sorry. I know, " I finished, not looking at him, but holding my hand out for him to grab. "And I'm dropping it off, not 'scoring' it."

I greeted Jerry, and joked with him about whether his wife had learned to change a tire, since the last time I saw her. Carla was a sweet older woman, who I happened to help after her tire went flat in the middle of Sahara Blvd. She would have been there for at least an hour if I hadn't come along. She now makes me banana nut bread and sweet rolls, and once in a while we take a day to just go shopping.

Edward and I passed the crowded bar first, the bartenders working the crowd with the tricks and smiles. I shuddered a little and looked towards the back for Tanya. The walls vibrated with the sound of American Slang.

Edward's muted question stunned me momentarily. "Do you want a drink?"

"No thanks," He nodded as if he understood why I declined, and we continued to move to the back of the small room. Multicolored and annoying strobe lights illuminated the crowded space, and the music blared with a floor vibrating thrum.

Tanya was an amazing DJ, it was hard to believe her passion was Psychology. Then again, it might just be curiosity on why the patrons of the club behave the way they do.

_The short answer would be large amounts of liquor and low inhibitions._

Though, I thought it had more to do with the scars on her arm and how she used to cut, because her step dad molested her. The day I met her, she found out the asshole had been killed in a fire, and she was in the bathroom of the club retching, unsure of how to feel. I told her there was no right way to feel about anything; grief, forgiveness and anger were all their own beasts. Her sandy blonde hair was matted, and her model looks marred with pain and confusion, blush and eye makeup smeared themselves in opposite directions across her high cheek bones.

I spent the better part of that night, wiping the remnants of uncertainty off her face and just listening. She asked me if I had ever lost anyone, and I pointed to my tattoo and nodded. She ran her fingers over it and laughed humorlessly. "Little White Doves."

"Bella!" She threw her arms around me and I did the same to her. "Girl, I haven't seen you around in over a month!"

She had gained some weight in the last six months, appearing stronger and healthier. Her plump lips had a fresh sheen of pink gloss, and a pale shimmer dusted on her cheeks.

I shrugged and smiled as she released me, then maneuvered my messenger bag around my body to open the flap. "Got something for you."

The look of shock upon seeing me, was quickly replaced with a new look of disbelief. "You didn't. "

"Maybe."

I had found a rare book she needed to write her term paper. She'd been looking for it for a while, but had yet to find it. "Oh my God. You do know you're the best right?" She hugged me awkwardly, took the book and set it down, before she noticed Edward.

A scandalous grin contorted her lips. "Is this who's been keeping you busy? Because if so, I envy the shit out of you." She whispered the last part in my ear and leaned forward. "I'm Tanya, and you are?"

He looked over Tanya with discerning eyes. "Edward."

"Do you have a last name? Or are you going for the Madonna mystique? Because it doesn't work, especially if you're straight. "

I grimaced because I didn't want Edward to feel like he had to expose anything about himself that he was uncomfortable with. However, I was more than curious about any detail I could get. "Cullen. Edward Cullen.

"Oh and he pulls a Bond. Nice." She laughed." Tanya Shepard."

There was a twinge of recognition at his name, as they shook hands and appraised one another, but I couldn't place it and gave up trying. "I've got to hand it to you Bella, you find the hottest guys to shack up with. You sure Jake won't mind?" She laughed, and patted my shoulder.

"Actually I found her," Edward corrected her and turned to me. "Who's Jake?"

"My roommate," I answered, shooting an unimpressed glance at Tanya. Edward looked uncomfortable and put out, like he believed there was more to the story. There was, but nothing that was going to impede what we were doing.

_The question is what are we doing?_

_What am I doing?_

"Calm down Bond. She is the Grace to his Will and never the two shall meet under the sheets," Tanya clarified. "You better not take Bond to your place though, Jake will be on him like white on rice."

"Thanks," I snickered. "I'll take that under advisement. I think we're going to head out."

"We can stay if you want."

He constantly surprised me, judging from his reaction upon seeing the place, I figured he wouldn't want to be here any longer than necessary. "Really, we can…"

"No. We should stay. I'm in no hurry to head back."

_Back to what? _I thought, mulling over his name again.

"Yes!" Tanya exclaimed. "You know what this means."

"Don't," I laughed in spite of myself. She always played the same song every time I came in.

"This is in honor of the most amazing person you should ever have the pleasure to meet. I want to see the doves try to fly!" she yelled.

The old song faded into the opening bars of Little White Doves.

"You better get her ass out on that floor," Tanya motioned to Edward. He saluted her and grabbed my hand despite my weak protests. When the beat dropped, I couldn't help but dance along with everyone.

Edward was a breath away from me, moving to the same rhythm. So close, but yet entirely too far. "You keep extremely interesting company."

"I think so," I responded, my body moving to the beat, but I made it apparent by grabbing his shirt and pulling him closer that I meant him.

His warm fingers trailed along the exposed sliver of my stomach, and up to my ribs before they stopped and slipped down my back and I was in his arms.

I was once told, you fuck as well as you dance.

I suddenly wanted to test that theory for hours.

_You've got to stop objectifying him. _

_The devil on the other shoulder was undressing him with her eyes and wondering how filthy his mouth was. _

_I need therapy. _

Removing myself casually from his embrace, my hips not so subtly let him know that self- defense wasn't the only thing I was capable of doing with my body.

I danced backward and around the crowd, I ran my hands around my curves while working my hips and rolled my head slowly around until I looked up casually and caught his eyes, almost exactly as the bridge of the song ended, and the beat grew loud again, I beckoned him with my finger and a come hither smile.

Some of the other dancers had seen my display and were watching us, but not too many.

He raced over to me and grabbed my hand, and surprised me by twirling me a few times, the sensation of it was liberating.

_Obviously he watches far too much Dancing with the Stars._

I laughed wildly and noticed that my ponytail had come undone, my hair fell around my face and into my eyes a little as we danced together through the crowd. He was the most relaxed I'd seen him, his eyes shining with something that resembled happiness. I wondered if I could keep it there for the rest of the night, because that spark of joy and freedom mixed together in small green orbs, the emotions sheeting into his irrepressible smile, was a thing to behold.

A satisfied smile came across my lips as he brought me back up from a dip at the end of the song, but I broke the hold his eyes had on me when he stared for second too long. It was doing a number on my thoughts and since I was already picturing him taking me up against a bathroom stall, it wasn't bound to get any cleaner.

Everyone was chatting around us, and Tanya had put on the next crowd pleasing top forty. "What's next?" I questioned, ready for whatever he wanted.

He debated a second before he answered, "I'm thinking I'd like something," he paused and put his lips by my ear, "hot."

"And wet." His fingers skimmed my exposed hip, dipping the tip of one past the waist and gliding it along the band of my panties, but not delving any further.

"That I can add cream to." He smirked and his eyes were unmistakably predatory, knowing full well his flirting and touches, were having an effect on me because I had to stop myself from falling forward when he pulled away slightly.

That moment could have been so easy. I could have answered the way I wanted, he could have done wicked things to me for the next few hours. And he could have hung himself in the morning when I left.

Even though he told me he wanted to live, and he probably wasn't a risk to himself, I couldn't be sure that I wouldn't be one to him. All the signs were pointing to something more, but the way I lived my life, never knowing exactly where I was going to be or what types of situations I was going to be in, left my dating life with a lot to be desired. The uncertainty and the back burner status, put most men off and they would slowly, but consistently end the relationship.

I was ultimately, an island.

_Donne just wrote no man is an island. I saw nothing about a woman in there. _

Swallowing down the desire I had for him and remembering I had a vibrator and a vivid, vile imagination, I responded. "I thought you put sugar in your coffee."

He looked a little disappointed that I didn't bite, but forced a smile. "You're right, I do."

The devil wanted to trounce on me with baseball cleats, and there was a ball of guilt forming in my stomach for robbing him of his hope. "Besides, I think your 'cream manufacturer' could be put to a better use than defiling coffee."

_So much for not giving him the wrong idea. _

I thought I heard him say something about "defiling me for hours on fucking end" which only made me smile and pull him along.

_Absolutely filthy._

**A/N So what are we thinking? Big thanks to those who have picked this up and left some love in my in box;) **

**Little White Doves-Dirty Vegas.**

**American Slang-Gaslight Anthem **

_**Basically the convo between John and Bella consisted of him calling her a bitch, her telling him fuck you and him singing some "Me & Mrs. Jones." **_

_**Oh, and Fuku burger is awesome. js. **_


	4. Bridge

After a cappuccino, and a second warm up of a black coffee with four sugars and no cream, I interrupted him in the middle of his story.

"You legally changed your name to War Ant when you were in college?" We were led down the road of questions, when he remarked he was a drummer back in the day. His stage name caused me have an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time." His eyes glowed as he spoke and I was enjoying it in a way I was at a loss to explain. The small diner was quiet and empty except for a few truckers and our muted laugher. Our conversation only interrupted by the occasional clank of a spoon or short inquiries from our waitress. Listening to him reminisce and relay happier times seemed like my best idea of the night.

"Don't all regrettable ideas?"

He slowly looked up from his cup until his eyes caught mine, a slice of a smile tweaked the corner of his mouth.

"Without a doubt."

Again, my inference was clear and his response a concession, he was coming around to my point of view. The shift in his mood was apparent as we sat there and soaked in each other's company, and small, though significant stories. His smiles became even more genuine, while we continued to delve deeper.

As we did, and I began to see him less as a lost soul, and Pierce's prediction re-infiltrated my thoughts.

"_Isa, he'll be in a bad way," Pierce warned. "It'll be your lot to help him of course." _

"_Uh, huh," I replied. "I believe all the ink on your body has leeched into your brain." _

"_He'll ask for this," he pointed to my drawing, exasperated with my dismissal. "It's the only thing he'll want and I'll mark him for you."_

"_And how am I supposed to find this marked man?" I joked, still completely unconvinced. _

"_He'll come to you, Isa," Pierce informed haughtily. "The love of your life will come to you. He'll be your oasis and want to surround you with stars." _

_I rolled my eyes, and admired my fresh tattoo in the mirror. The redness would go away, but the mark never would. The permanent etching would never let me forget. _

"_Doves and stars," Pierced mused quietly, taking another look at his work. _

"_Lay off the caffeine," I snickered patting his hand patronizingly. "You're not making any sense, and I asked for swans."_

"_When you meet him...your balance will be restored," he argued, his voice holding more annoyance than conviction. "And I saw you with doves, not swans." _

"_Will my foot ping when he kisses me too?" I let the swan/dove issue go and decided to poke holes in his prediction for my love life. _

"_I'm a psychic, not a bloody mind reader!" He laughed finally. "It will be amazing Isa, just wish I could be there to see you two get on." _

I sipped the last dram of my caffeinated salvation, and pushed the ever loudening conversation under a locked door in the floor of my brain where I kept inconvenient knowledge.

I could only hope the beating of the hideous heart would keep it down to a dull roar.

"Not to stir up painful subjects, but you really wanted your last style choice to be a ratty Oasis tee?" Wardrobe seemed like a safe house on the avenue of landmine riddled conversational topics in front of us.

He feigned offense, looking away with one hand on his neck, and then locked his eyes with mine. "Oasis, happens to be the greatest band ever. I wouldn't expect someone of the Britney Spears' generation to understand that."

"I'm a year younger than you, which makes you a part of said generation," I corrected, with a grin, divulging another spot of personal information. He turned twenty-nine last June and according to him, the birthday was uneventful. "So, I won't take offense to the outrageous assumption, my ears have ever willingly heard 'Baby One More Time', when there was so much DMB to listen to."

He looked impressed, his body learning forward minutely. "They're alright."

"Alright?" I scoffed, amused. "Obviously, there's not a music appreciative bone in your body."

"I'm bare boned and crazy, actually." He cleared his throat, and smiled at the window, glancing back at me through the reflection.

"I guess you can stop crying your heart out." I could play Don't Forget the Lyrics with him, in addition to making a point.

He leered at me, his harmless glare focusing and refocusing repeatedly for a second or two. "Agree to disagree?"

"In the interest of not throttling you?" I smirked. "I suppose."

"As long as you don't crash into me." His flimsy mug clanked the accompanying saucer when he placed it down and rested his back against the vinyl booth.

"I think you were already caught beneath a landslide."

"You're my Wonderwall," he admitted while leaning forward. He stroked a line up my arm, his reverent green gaze tempting me more than his sensually simplistic touch of a rough fingertip.

"Funny the way it is." I laughed anxiously, concluding our lyrical round robin and returning the seemingly innocent gesture. I couldn't keep my hands to myself and the more I recalled the conversation with Pierce the less guilty I felt.

The ease of our exchanges was unnerving me, the way my skin heated in accordance with a glance or a touch. I was feeling more protective of him by the minute, becoming addicted to the feelings he was eliciting in me. I suddenly had to know why he was sitting across from me. I wanted to punish and award the circumstances in which he'd been brought into my life.

"Why?...Did you end up here?"

He appeared lost in thought for several moments, enough to warrant withdrawing his hand and his body back into the booth. "Do you really want to do this now?"

"Is there a more opportune time coming shortly?"

"You're asking for the red pill pretty fast," he complained. "I'd like to pretend my steak is real for a while longer."

I thought about the Matrix analogy. He wasn't ready to lay all his cards on the table. I wondered if he was worried about the stakes or if I would fold when I saw the baggage he was holding.

_Even Southwest would charge me for the amount I'm lugging. _

"Edward, I assure you every situation is unique, but the reasons not all that dissimilar. The voice of desperation is fairly universal."

He lapsed into a lulled state of contemplation. He seemed to be sifting the words carefully inside of his head, peeking at me cautiously as he decided if what I said was enough of an invitation to explain what led him here.

"I'm not entirely sure, honestly," he eventually confessed. "I was so pissed at Victoria...my sister. I wanted to just fucking end it."

I nodded and placed my hand on his. "And I ran up to the bathroom and bagged every last damn sedative we had, which thanks to Mom was a fuck of a lot, and I took off in Vic's 'Vette and drove and drove. Fluctuating back and forth on whether I should crash into a Semi or take the pills and... "

His sweet smile returned a while after he trailed off. "It wasn't until I got to the state border that I started laughing."

"You found your impending demise funny?" The knot in my stomach twisted uncomfortably as little pieces of his story were divulged, but thinking about him laughing at taking his life, made me increasingly ill.

"I really didn't think about it," he admitted. "I wasn't thinking about anything until then."

"What made you laugh?"

He inhaled deeply. "Pierce."

"He's hysterical." My compliment was flat and full up with sarcasm, but Edward didn't seem to notice and continued.

"He told me if I was ever in trouble, to head to Vegas." Edward shook his head and looked away.

I got the immediate impression it wasn't the only advice he'd received from Pierce. As the prophet hadn't given me such a succinct Chinese cookie fortune. "Was that it?"

A serious look crossed his face, the endless debate in his eyes clear even as the words rushed out. "When you get there, follow the doves."

"Cryptic bastard," I muttered in regards to Pierce. "At least he didn't tell you to follow the white rabbit."

Edward smiled again and laughed freely as the sky lightened outside. "Then I would have been changing my name to Neo and looking for Morpheus."

After several moments of quoting our favorite lines and laughing over terrible Agent Smith impersonations, our conversation drifted back to the elephant in the corner.

"I thought he was fucking nuts," Edward concluded. "I knew the parlor was well-known for the psychic tattooist, but I don't... didn't believe it."

"I'm still having trouble," I admitted.

"What did he tell you?" Edward was intrigued and his hand really hadn't left mine since he'd explained the obtuse instructions he'd been given.

I couldn't tell him. Not everything anyway. I wasn't sure I believed all of it.

_Denial is lovely this time of year. _

"That you'd need my help and he'd...you'd ask for my design," I stuttered, desperate for a distraction.

"Was that all?"

I nodded and looked away. "For the most part."

"That was incredibly vague."

I smiled and looked down into my empty cup, shaking my head. Telling him a bit more wasn't going change anything. "He said you'd be my oasis and surround me with stars."

"Cryptic bastard," Edward reiterated quietly. "Who knew British guys were omnipotent?"

I started laughing hysterically. "He wishes. He's from California, born and raised. He started using that accent when Madonna started using hers."

Another round of random questions and increasingly sexual touches commenced. I wondered if Debbie, our waitress, would pretend to give us privacy if I threw him down on the table or if we'd end up in a county cell.

I was willing to take my chances. The devil on my shoulder applauded me and encouraged public table fucking and the possible resulting arrest.

"Where would you go? If money and time weren't an issue? Anywhere on the globe." Edward's question interrupted my selfish thoughts, which I was only partially grateful for.

I could have lied, and uttered something average. Europe, Fiji, Bahamas, but the more time I spent with him the more I wanted him to know me. Or the parts I was willing to reveal at least.

"Home." I swallowed and my gaze detoured to my spoon.

A shuffle of footsteps and abrupt scuttle near our table drew my attention away from the thoughts of a white empty house, miles away, that were slowly stoning me. An older woman with auburn hair and too much make-up, was tentatively perched at our nook. "Do you happen to know the time?"

Edward lazily glanced at his watch. "Five forty-three."

She gave her hurried thanks and briskly walked around the corner into the back. A short, though noticeable argument ensued between her and an unseen man with a baritone cut to his voice. She was thirteen minutes late and it seemed unacceptable to him.

"Guess he's not the only one worried about the time," Edward smiled sadly. "I should be letting you get back to whatever, you need to get back to."

I could tell he was frustrated with his choice of words, though couldn't tell if he was generally upset at ending our time together. I wondered if there was something else he would have rather said, but held back. Because, I know there was tons I was dying to say at that point, but the most important question topped my list.

"Is the suicide watch over?"

He thought about it for several moments, his face going through a range of emotions before finally smiling. "For now. I think I've had one hell of an intervention."

I took a deep breath, relieved and gratified by his answer, but still saddened. My time with him had come to an end, and I sincerely wasn't ready for it to. I didn't want to push anything more on him. He seemed content and that was more than enough despite the words coursing through me and the attraction I'd been fighting since I met him.

I smiled, masking my disappointment, and took out his phone from my pocket. "I'll put my number in here, just in case."

Edward chuckled awkwardly and drained the last of his coffee, signaling for the check. I pinched my eyes shut, and handed the phone back to him with an unsure motion. "I mean it. Anytime. Business hours don't apply."

I internally cringed at my attempt at joking, as I rose from my seat.

"I'll hold you to that."

"Take care of yourself. I want weekly reports, hugs before drugs and all that."

I rolled my eyes under my lids at my inept sentiment. Even the angel on my shoulder was embarrassed for me. The moment had gone long past uncomfortable. I wanted to have any other excuse to make him stay, besides our common tattooist and aforementioned prophecies that appeared to be unraveling.

"Bella." The proximity of his voice startled me. In the seconds it had taken for me to embarrass myself, he'd risen and stood next to me. He looked to be searching for words as he stood too close, and my compulsion to pull him close consumed me. "Do angels have last names?"

I snickered. His subtle attempt at acquiring my last name, had the ring of a very generic pick-up line.

"Swan." I couldn't help the smile that lingered on my face. I was memorizing the moment, the weight of it sat squarely on my shoulders. The hideous heart was thrumming violently against the floor boards, threatening to rip them away and I simply waved and turned.

_I'll mark him for you. _

_Love of your life. _

_Your oasis. _

"You forgot my number." Edward's reminder got my attention, and weakened my resolve to leave him. He held out a folded napkin and placed it in my hand.

"Thank you," I whispered, crunching it in my hand.

"With any luck, you'll look at that sooner rather than later," he mumbled. "And I should be the one thanking you."

I nodded and smiled weakly, quickly kissed his cheek and practically ran out the front door. The sun had already nudged its way well above the horizon, while I walked away from the diner and flagged down a cab. Regretting every step, cursing every number of the license plate, thoroughly pissed off at myself as I watched the brightening scenery of the desert zoom by.

I couldn't believe I'd left him standing there alone in an unfamiliar city while the cabbie took off towards my house.

_I'm an island. Pierce is wrong and I'm going to hurt Edward if I play into this. _

He wasn't going to understand any better than the other men. I wasn't available and he was in a place where he needed to focus on himself.

_It was better this way, he got the help he needed and I was still free to help other people. _

Tattoos, predictions and amazing chemistry aside. It had to be this way, I couldn't afford to be distracted by another broken heart.

_Not everyone will leave Bella. _Jake's constant catchphrase came unbidden into my head, skewering my thoughts and slicing holes through my reasoning. Pierce's predictions came back with a vengeance, to fill in the gaps.

_He was going to hurt me. _

I rubbed my right shoulder letting out a frustrated noise. I was so tired of being abandoned, and so afraid of being hurt again that I left. As the car exited the freeway and the sun began to bake the ground, I realized I had made a huge mistake out of fear and past experiences.

_Is the any way he could be the one to understand_? _Or at least tolerate? _

_You're not going to find out sitting at home and letting him leave. _

I had to go back to the diner and find him somehow. I wondered if he'd gone back to Bellagio or worse back home, to presumably California.

I didn't even know where he was from. I had no city, nothing to go on except a name. I went to pull out my phone and beg Jake to work some Google magic for me, but the rough fibers of the napkin hit my hand. I quickly unfolded it ready to dial, to apologize and find out where he was and if I could see him again, but what I read, left me speechless.

_**Follow the stars- E**_

I stared at his chicken scratch for at least thirty seconds, trying to figure out if I was really seeing what I thought I was.

_He wanted me to follow him. _

_Follow him to where?_ I thought, plagued by indecision. Wishing he'd actually given me his number, instead of this sweet, though decidedly unhelpful, clue.

It was a mere second later when my phone chirped. A picture from an unknown number appeared on my screen.

_**Paging the Wonderwall of Sin City. The view isn't the same without you. **_

A picture of the Bellagio fountains stared back at me. I didn't know if he was feeling dejected, or simply missed me. I texted back before I could second guess myself or question his motives any more.

_**Did you want some company?**_

_**Not some company. Your company. **_

I sighed and took a shallow breath. Then I smiled like the Cheshire cat and politely, but very loudly for the small space between us, demanded the cabbie take me to the strip and to the fountains. I couldn't help the giddiness, I couldn't help the nerves, and I couldn't help feeling ridiculous because I was seeing someone I'd just left not more than ten minutes ago.

_Did I mention I need therapy? _

The return to where I met him seemed to take an eternity with the early morning commuter traffic going at a snail's pace, and the never ending road construction, but we managed to finally make it. A wad of money was placed into the driver's hand before I exited the vehicle, and speedily walked the length of the fountains. My eyes darting in all directions, but unable to zero in on what they wanted to see most.

_He's not here. _

My heart twisted as I turned to look at the still water instead of the few people walking past in the early morning. What if he changed his mind or...worse he's up in his hotel room doing exactly what he was intent on doing few short hours ago?

_You killed him. _

I steadied myself by thinking about the texts. He wouldn't have asked me to meet him if he was going to do the unthinkable. I feebly clung to the thought, as various scenarios of what caused his departure, tortured me in the passing minutes.

My head was down, my eyes scanned the undisturbed water and I was on the verge of doing something I hadn't done in a very long time, when the the dull traffic noise and elevator music from the overhead speakers was broken by a voice from behind me.

"I met a girl here last night." His simple sentence startled me and comforted me immensely. "She looked a little like you."

"Maybe I'm the same one?" I replied after a small silence.

"Maybe," he answered. "Only one way to be sure."

A slow sweep of his hand brushed my hair over my left shoulder, and the his fingers of the other pulled down the fabric of my shirt by my right. His fingers stroked over the tattoo, patterns of simple loops and curves swooped across my flesh, transforming the inanimate words into sentient entities.

They were flying to the locked door, where inconvenient knowledge was kept. Drawn in by the cries condemned heart trapped behind it.

"You're the same," Edward whispered against my ear.

A languid searing kiss on where I knew one of my doves were followed.

I wasn't breathing. I could barely swallow or think.

"Don't do that." The acute thud of nearby road construction, drowned out my voice. I didn't believe he'd be able to hear me, nor was I entirely sure I wanted him to.

His words were clearer in my ear than traffic noise. "Is that a real 'don't do that?' Or an'I'm afraid'don't do that?'" He kissed another dove.

"It's…an 'I don't know' don't do that," I admitted, as my skin erupted in an immutable fire.

"I'm taking that as a "keep going until you figure it out" I don't know."

By the time he left a kiss on the concave of my neck, I was seriously wondering if I could trademark Vagbib.

The innocent gesture was ingrained with lust, turbulent and unapproachable. Like he had just fucked me in the street with everyone watching, and I could only moan and beg him to do it again.

I was almost incoherent when he turned me around, in fact he closed my mouth with a gesture of his finger. "Your lips look a little chapped."

He had gone from carnal, seducing Don Juan to playful, in three seconds flat.

I was wondering how fast I could have his clothes on the floor and him underneath me, while I licked over my lips and took a step towards him. The angel on my shoulder was appalled, the devil was sharpening her pitchfork to silence her.

I knew there were things we should discuss, concerns to be hashed out and unbelievable events occurring, but in that second, looking into his eyes, the thudding heart shattered its surroundings with help from the unbridled words and took on a life of its own.

"Where do we go from here?" Everything seemed to be streaming entirely too quick. An idea of what I wanted slowly formed in my head.

A breath passed between us, our faces inches apart. "We both take the red pill and jump down the hole."

I raised my eyebrow, and he smirked back. "Assuming you don't try to get rid of me again."

"I wasn't trying to get rid of you. I didn't want to pressure you." My response was somewhat true.

He flashed me a look of disbelief, but cautiously reined it in and his hand was slowly tracing my tattoo again. His fingers slowly trailed up and over my shoulder, lingering around my jaw and brushed over my cheek.

"I asked for a sign. I got a billboard. A interesting, intelligent, gorgeous billboard."

_I guess I wasn't the only one hearing Bill in my head. _

_Though being compared to some kind of cosmic billboard was more than a little strange. _

Two green pools of reprieve in a landscape of dirt and neon were luring me. Summoning me in from the vastness and offering nothing more than a breath of preservation that I was all too happy to take.

_My oasis. _

I stared at his lip for a beat and glanced up at him. "Your lips still look pretty moist."

_His lips and my panties had something in common. _

"Did you want to test that theory?" His fingers brushed over the skin of my hip, his other guided me against him. Everything in my body was demanding his touch, and my mind only held two words.

_Fuck. Islands. _

I nodded, and before I could blink his lips were on mine madly taking, everything they could along with every conscious thought in my head. Unforgiving heated motions of supple lips and tongues, explored one another, while bodies and hands became acquainted. His fingertips dug into my hip, then slowly drifted to my ass.

My sanctum was slowly turning me into a hot mess, melting me to the sidewalk as the desert wind kicked up and my leg was forcefully hitched around his hip by his eager hand. My back pressed into the cement blockade as Edward lost any decorum he once had and his hips pressed into mine.

The devil threw the royal flush she had been holding on the table, showing that she had indeed beaten the angel's full house and leaned forward to collect her winnings.

I groaned, my eyes rolled back in my head slightly as he did it again. His tongue slid past my lips and his coffee coated mouth controlled mine, while his hand traveled under my shirt and teased my bra clad nipple with a promised infused touch.

My tongue licked over my lip as his tactful mouth migrated to my neck and ear. I managed to take a breath and have a thought other than "fuck me," before the escalation of our actions caught up with me.

"Edward, we're going to end up in county, if you don't stop grinding your dick into me."

"I thought lewd acts had a free pass in Vegas?" he panted and covertly slipped his hand down my jeans, his fingers tempting me, but not pleasing the ache.

"It's going to be more than lewd when your buried balls deep and pounding my pussy." Not to be outdone, I undid the top button of his jeans and bit his earlobe. His dick was at full attention, hot, hard ready, willing and hopefully more than able.

"Fuck," he mumbled. "You're dirty." There was a lascivious grin on his lips, that lingered as they mashed mine. The thought of those lips on every last part of me in the near feature caused my hand to move lower and stoke him. I shouldn't have been surprised he was more than endowed.

_You know what they say about a guy in an Oasis tee. _

"You don't know the half of it." I muttered against his skin, continuing my slow stroking motion. His eyes pinched shut as he thrust into my hand.

"Baby," he groaned, trying to constrain himself. "I...I still have a room."

"Room?" For some reason the definition of simple words weren't readily available in my highly aroused state.

"Yeah. A place..with a...Son of a bitch!" he trailed off as my thumb went over the head of him. He stilled my motions, his breathing labored. I grinned and removed my hand, licking the pre-cum off my thumb.

.

He took the opportunity to show me he wasn't one to be outdone either. The fingers that had been teasing me finally made their way down, sensations of wet rough and heat hit me like a tidal wave. The insane pleasure of finally having him touching me that way was almost too much to bear.

"A room," he continued in a smug whisper, and a pump of his fingers. "It has a bed...so I can fuck you properly. Clothing is optional."

_And completely necessary. _

I had a plethora of raunchy words plastering their way across my tongue, most of them were four letters and slipped out inadvertently, as Edward continued to torture me. Even though I managed to whimper "Room" as I caught the shocked glance of an elderly woman power walking nearby and my body was screaming out for Edward, my mind only had one word coursing through it as he led me through the doors of the hotel.

_Bridge. _

_**A/N: Sorry this took so long. RL has been kicking my ass. **_

_**I know, I know. How could she leave it there? My question is: Do you want it good, or do you want it fast? Lol. **_

_**I've had several ppl mention concerns about a non HEA, I don't roll like that. That's not to say the angst wont be there, but trust me, I know what I'm doing. ;) **_

_**Slow burn ppl. You will get the answers behind everything, and yes, I know that having the same tattoo and future predictions are reaching, but I figure if we can all accept the idea of sparkly vampires occupying NW WA., that this isn't that much of a stretch;) **_

_**Thanks to the ppl tweeting, reviewing and recc'ing. As always, love to know what you think. **_

_**Until next time, wonderwalls. **_


	5. Steps

I woke up flat on my stomach, the sheets against my naked skin were unfamiliar, the pillow too pronounced under my head. I opened one eye and looked around slowly, taking in the foreign room.

Everything was in shades of coal, tan and white. The ocher drapes were shut, but a fair amount of sunlight was streaming through the gap between the floor. I caught sight of my bra first, hanging off a lamp in the corner.

My other eye opened then, as my memory of events from earlier in the day, caught up with me.

Was it still the same day? I had no idea how long I'd slept.

I looked for a clock or my phone, but the clock had been knocked to the floor and was flashing twelve, and my phone was somewhere in this room, in the pocket of a pair of stripped blue jeans.

In a few seconds, I grabbed up the sheet around me and awkwardly sprinted across the suite. Finding my jeans just on the other side of the wet bar where they had been discarded. I reached into the crumpled heap, located my cell and flicked the pants a couple times in an attempt to straighten them. I had seven missed calls and a ton of texts from Jake.

_Shit. I really should have called him. _

_When? Before Edward ate at the downtown cafe? During round two against the window? Or after security was called for a disturbance complaint in round three?_

_I wouldn't have been able to form a word, let alone a sentence. _

_Well, not a clean sentence. _

I found my top closer to the door. A smile crept across my face as I picked it up and added it to my pants.

_Edward's hands were in my hair, as his lips attacked mine. A sweet, sadistic type of torture when the only thing you really wanted for the last few hours was to hear your name on his lips as he came. _

_I pulled on the hem of his shirt. He gave me a playful though unsure glance. "Be careful with the merchandise."_

"_Is it for sale?" I teased, my lips moving around his neck._

_He shook his head slightly. "I'm going to be buried in that shirt." _

It was an off-hand response, and under different circumstances, it might have been funny. However, I immediately stopped my affections and my libido plummeted, reality striking me harshly.

_Realization overtook him as I smiled sadly and pulled away. I felt the guilt return and a prick of pain._

_A gentle embrace surrounded me. "Hey, it was... I was joking, mostly." _

"_Mostly?" _

"_I want to be buried in that shirt, but not nearly as soon." _

I nodded and carefully pulled it over his head, as he helped me. Quickly deciding I'd managed to truly knock him out of his funk and the comment was as innocent as intended.

_My mouth was driven by my relief. "Then you better have a damn careful dry cleaner for the next forty years."_

_The implication of my utterance stunned me, froze my actions and managed to fling my thoughts into a frenzy. Although, Edward appeared not to notice, reciprocated with a nod and began to place slow kisses around my cheek. _

_I ran my hand up his bare chest, letting the flurry of thoughts settle into heaps, focusing instead on lazing my fingers up his abs. Spreading my fingers out as they moved across his pecs and over his shoulder, caused all the troublesome, non-sexualized thoughts to melt away. _

I decided he had to be some type of personal trainer or fitness nut...cause...damn.

_Edward's eventual reply stymied my hands canvas of his muscular body. "I'll make it forty-five if you take your shirt off, and fifty if your pants come off with it." _

_I grinned and felt less uncertain and more confident the man in front of me. Could he possibly be everything Pierce said he would be?_

"_Make it sixty and your pants come off ...you have yourself a deal." _

"_You drive a hard bargain Bella." My tank top hit the floor a few feet away. _

_His pants were tossed aside."I think you're going to be the one 'driving hard.'"_

_A smirk and spark of evil flared in his eyes as he snatched me around the waist. "Buckle up, Baby." _

I made my way back to the bedroom and collected the haphazardly sprawled bra.

_With a simple twist of his thumb and finger, Edward unfastened my bra and flung it. I hadn't had the inclination to look where it landed. He was distracting me with his mouth and available fingers. The only thing separating us was a thin layer of cotton that was barely covering me. _

_I ground my wet center against him, begging him with my body to just end my suffering. The heightened state of arousal was slowly killing me. _

"_Fuck. B...Bella..." Edward groaned. "I don't have any..._

_I shoved my tongue into his mouth and rubbed myself against him again. My fingers laced through his thick hair as my lips claimed his, halting his sentence. _

Forgive me father. I know not what I do when glorious cock comes knocking at the girl cave.

"_God dammit Bella!" There was a sharp sting on my left ass cheek. It took me a couple of seconds to realized that Edward had fucking spanked me. _

_But even less time to realize that I liked it. _

_His sharp stare held mine in wonder while his fingers held my chin. _

"_I don't have any fucking protection." _

_His deliberate, measured warning hardly rattled me, however the fierce sting of his swat and the look of challenge in his eyes only caused my desire to heighten further. _

"_Live dangerously, Edward." _

In retrospect it was a stupid thing to say. I knew I was protected for the most part, but going bareback with someone you just met, predictions aside, was something I wouldn't advocate.

In fact, I've bought more condoms and pregnancy tests for free clinics than I care to mention.

Look up hypocrite in the dictionary. That'd be my picture next to it.

_Edward slowly released my chin, but his gaze didn't leave mine. His eyes narrowed in challenge and he licked over his lip. _

"_I'm calling your bluff." A fierce rip followed and two shards of fabric fell to the floor. _

I found the pink shreds next to the chair across from the bed. I picked them up and threw them in the garbage. There was no saving them.

_Edward grabbed my hips quickly and positioned me over him the tip of him teased my entrance. His fingers gently gripped the back of my head. Forcing me once again to look into those tempestuous green eyes, every nerve and cell of my body was focused and alive. _

_Succumbing to the sensational haze of lust lingering from his offer, and being on the verge of finally getting what I'd been imagining most of the last several hours, I slid myself onto him. _

"_I don't bluff." _

_So many sensations coursed through me, I could't contain them all. The tangents were flowing off in different directions leaving my mind scattered and senses coiled in disbelief. _

_This is so wrong. So very wrong. _

_Too very good. _

_Don't fucking care. _

_A shocked, though intensely satisfied groan came sounded in my ear. "Insane ass, girl."_

_Edward moved slowly and deliberately, the agony and ecstasy adding further tangents to the web. The scant sunlight glinted off his hair as he pushed further into me. _

"_Tell me to stop." He kissed over my shoulder and up my neck, my body moved on its on accord, attuned with his movements. Sensual and fluid, as his lips brushed, hands grasped and fingers teased every plane of my skin. _

_A sweet whimper escaped me, but the words he was asking me to say, wouldn't form. The heat of his breath, his muscles taught with the restraint and hesitation. His brain still had control of his mouth, which I was mildly impressed with, but parts of my body were severely annoyed with. _

"_Tell me to stop." His hips moved a little quicker and there was more urgency in his tone, his words weaker. _

_I moaned instead and dug my nails into his back, unable to take enough of a breath to speak. I was too far gone and this was going too far and too fast anyway. At least that's what I was trying to tell myself as my back hit the bed and Edward's half-hearted attempts to curb our actions stopped and my leg went around his back. _

Of course that might have been my fault.

"_If you stop, I'll fucking kill myself."_

In hindsight, it wasn't the best choice of words, but it got the message across.

"_Point taken" was all he said before picking me up and toting me to the bed, and taking me over. He drove into me again and again, he was scorching hot and had skills that tore up any list of previous liaisons. _

I was still wondering if he was on the payroll of a gigolo service. Those skills must be a fee for service kind of offering.

_The devil started emptying the angel's collection plate into a bag earmarked for future use. _

Sitting in the same spot on the bed, I couldn't get the thick feelings of desire for him to subside.

My placid oasis had become a turbulent sexual firestorm that I would gladly and repeatedly burn for.

_'I won't break. Fuck me like you own me," I panted, needing more of him, opening my legs, drawing him in deeper. _

"_Can't talk like that, baby." He bit my lip and pounded harder, testing me. _

"_God, just...like..."_

_He bit my nipple and thrusted, hitting the always allusive spot most men can't begin to find. I gasped and cried out for him to do it again. _

"_You like that? Does my dirty Chaptstick girl like the way I fuck her?" _

_The devil was panting and fanning herself. The angel was trying to cover her ears and they were both fighting over the holy water. _

"_Yes." It was a moan, a confession and a plea all in one. _

_Harder and harder still, Edward inflicted his delicious pleasure teased with pain.. I was on the brink, my muscles straining trying to fight off the unavoidable. I never wanted to end the way I felt in those minutes. I never wanted him to let me go. _

"_Jesus," he groaned. "I won't."_

_Stupid unfiltered pre-climaxing mouth. _

_My legs quaked as every last string of tension snapped. I was left with the euphoric, blissful aftermath of my release. Edward's breathing increased, and all his muscles tensed and he called my name as he came. _

I smiled again, remembering the feel of his skin and the sound of his voice as I looked around the unfamiliar room, for something I was sure I wouldn't find.

Edward's clothes.

My clothes were alone, their former companions were gone. Along with their owner. Another text vibrated the phone in my hand, placing my worried thoughts on hold.

_**Where are you?**_

Jake. Again.

I started to text him back, but a Facetime request came through. I answered it. Jake was there with a bowl, presumably full of Lucky Charms since that's the only thing he ate in the afternoon.

"Where the hell are you? Please tell me you are in bed with a devastatingly handsome man so I can live vicariously."

"Well, I was actually." Taking the phone and holding it away from me. I let him peruse my hair and sheet cover up.

"Holy fuck! Look at you!" The picture shook and I heard a thunk the table, presumably his bowl."You're like the poster girl for whore couture! Swanee who is this guy?"

The first time Jake heard my last name, he started humming "Way Down upon the Swanee River."

The name unfortunately stuck and has since grown on me, since he's the only one who I would let use it.

"Uh, I just met him," I laughed out of disbelief, seriously curious as to what Jake would think.

"You little slut! Jumping into bed with strange men, staying out all night, half naked FaceTiming with yours truly. What reality show did you fall out of?"

'It's strange _man._ Singular. And you make is sound like I'm a nun Jake."

"Could have fooled me, course I don't know any nuns who fiddle their knob as much as you do. "

"Shut up, Jake."

"I'm sure all the batteries you go through are for your remote," he mumbled, then got a glint in his eye and a smirk on his face. "Did his Manga make you Cum Laude?"

I glared at him for a split second then laughed. "God, could you be any less subtle or lame?"

"I just want to know if I should have tissues when you get home or I should be picking out china patterns and designing your house with the white picket fence?"

I rolled my eyes and huffed. Jake was constantly trying to tie me down, with one thing or another. In the last three years that we lived together, I had brought 'home' two men, both of whom he instantly asked if I wanted chicken or fish and began listing off where we should register.

"Neither."

"That bad huh?" he frowned. "I guess I'll go to the store and restock our battery supply."

I walked to the in room fridge and noted the eight dollar of water, the fifteen dollar package of dried fruit, and quickly closed the tiny door again. I would stop by the cafe downstairs instead, at least the food would be fresh and I could mull over what all this meant while picking at a chocolate croissant. Maybe I would give Pierce a call and tell him his intel regarding my future was not only wrong, but in the realms of a _wham bam thank you ma'am. _

_I kept hearing an old mobster in a zoot suit saying "You've got the wrong guy, see?" _

"Fifteen dollars? For fruit?" Jake yelled. "Where are you again?"

"A suite at the Bellagio." I answered quickly, realizing I never told him when he'd asked before.

I walked across the large dining area, cinching the sheet around my torso as best as I could with one hand. The carpeting, cushioning my feet for the most part until the coldness of the wood laminate made me shiver.

"For serious? You better be hooking me up bitch. I need a pamper weekend."

"Yes, " I affirmed. "But you know me, the opulence is unsettling."

He frowned deeply, exasperated. "Can we trade places then? Opulence and I are old buddies, and we like to pal around with strange men in suites that are bigger than our house!"

I snickered at him and shook my head. I reached the large window and retracted the blinds. The late afternoon sun beat through in an instant leaving me warm as I showed Jake the busy street below.

"The view is amazing," I mumbled absently.

"Certainly is." Edward's affirmation startled me, and I dropped my phone on the ground out of surprise.

"Swanee? What the fuck is goin' on? You okay?"

I scrambled around trying to hold up my sheet and reacquire the phone. Which was decidedly ridiculous, considering Edward had seen much more than my breasts last night. "I'm fine Jake. Look, I've gotta go."

"Did he come back? Did he bring you eats? Is he prettier than me?" Jake's hurried questions left me laughing and going to hang up, but Edward snatched my phone. "Of course. Yes, and I'd say judging from the dimples and the baby face you're the pretty one."

The swoon like noise Jake emitted and the starry eyed gaze he was giving Edward made me giggle.

"Marry him. Marry him now!" Jake pleaded, after a minute of stunned silence.

"Goodbye, Jake."

"No wait, we can work this out! It'll be like You, Me and Dupree without the fuglyness of Owen Wilson! We'll all just be hot together and I won't have to put your ass on the next season of The Bachelorette! Think about it Swanee!"

I repeated my goodbye, and gave Jake a sharp look before I hung up.

"The roommate?"

"The best friend." My giggle became more of a laugh.

A large tray of food sat on the expansive table. Eggs, bacon, croissants, a wide array of butter, jams and syrups. I stared at Edward cautiously, after glancing at the assortment of breakfast foods. "Are you expecting to pick up more women at the fountain?"

"Why pick up generics? When I have a one of a kind?"

I secretly relished in the compliment. "A smart man doubles down."

"But a winner knows when to stay." After a beat and simper. "And offer food."

"Breakfast at three forty-five. I'm a little surprised room service is still taking eggs benedict orders."

He seemed amused by my prodding as he pulled out a chair and gestured for me to sit. "The Belgian waffles and crepes took more convincing on my part actually."

"Well me and my love of lingonberry thank you." I took the seat he offered, noticing that he'd changed out of his beloved t-shirt and into a fresh one. I wondered where it might have come from, as I took a crepe and poured half a glass of orange juice.

"New shirt?"

"I have to preserve the other for decades," he smiled, taking a sip of coffee. "I figured this would be a safer alternative."

"The green looks nice on you, matches your eyes." I peeled a banana and took a few bites while Edward watched intently.

"I guess this is the part where we ask the awkward morning after questions, and see if we're still compatible when I don't have an overt compulsion to fuck you raw."

I nearly choked on my bite of banana, but managed to swallow it with a swig of orange juice. Edward chuckled at my response to his crass, but brutally honest comment.

Attempting to pout and appear perturbed, I replied. "You don't have the urge to fuck me anymore?"

"I said 'raw.' Listening seems to be a weakness of yours."

I shook my head in dismissal, refusing to give his sarcasm any recognition."What do these questions usually consist of?"

Edward rubbed his hands together, as if it helped him to think. "What do you do when you're not saving people from themselves?"

I cringed. There was no good way to answer that question. "Un..unemployed for the most part. You?"

His eyes darted downward. "The same."

I looked around the suite, silently questioning his answer. I took a bite of toast to stifle my tongue.

He pursed his lips and folded his fingers together. "I used to have a career that paid really well, but..."

"You were laid off?" I managed to interrupt.

He looked up at me, seeing an escape path in my words. "In a manner of speaking."

I'd heard that story more times in the last several years than I would have thought possible. However, it usually caused people to commit suicide in their motel bathroom, not in a lavish suite on the 22nd of a world class hotel.

"It's not a typical situation." he snickered. "You're more than entitled to guess though."

In a flash, a scenario formed in my head and relayed by my tongue. "Trust funder with a wife, two point five children," I paused. "Lost all your money to your sister's live in boyfriend and his idea to invest in an alpaca farm?"

"A wife? Kids?" he stammered. "Damn. I've been busy while hitting my bong and cruising the beach."

I laughed, trying not to choke on my crepe. Though, I couldn't help but notice he didn't deny the wealth.

He took a croissant and began to dip it in his coffee. "Is it my turn now?"

I nodded, overly confident he wouldn't be able to guess an iota.

"Former cop, whose partner was secretly killed by the department chief, but you were a witness and are now under the protection of the feds until you can testify," he asserted and continued. "The kicker is, you were secretly in love with him when he was killed and are now using this time to work out your grief, by helping complete strangers."

My eyes blinked rapidly, he came up with such a detailed idea, far too quick and somehow not all of his story was entirely off the mark. It was disconcerting, though I did my best to laugh it off.

"Not a cop," I mumbled semi-uncomfortable. "Daughter of a cop."

Edward's eyes shot up. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Uh, he's deceased."

Edward didn't immediately launch into the barrage of questions or universal sentiment that usually follows, which surprised me. Instead, he looked intently at a bag on the chair next to me as he spoke.

"My dad is too."

I nodded after a moment, wide-eyed, more than blindsided by his admission. "It fucking sucks doesn't it?"

He stared at me, shaking his head slowly, a small half smile perking his lips upward. "Think that's the most honest, succinct description of my feelings I've ever heard."

He slid his hand across the table and over mine. I shrugged slightly, taking a bite of eggs, hoping the subject would change before the question came up, but it was already coming out his mouth.

"How did he..."

"Don't," I interrupted in a whisper, my hand shrinking away from his embrace. My gaze veered downward. "He's dead. My mother is dead. I don't talk about it."

My tone was flat, but carried a heavy warning.

"Fair enough." His tone was guarded. I felt monetarily guilty for being short with him, but it wasn't up for discussion. I never talked about their deaths and I wasn't about to start then. The emotion was threatening to choke me, I quickly squashed it and resumed eating. I hesitated looking in his direction, content to stare at my toast as if it was going to grow eyes and stare back.

"There's something in that bag for you." He noted, motioning to a blue bag after a few moments of awkward silence.

I lifted my gaze to him, questioning him with concerned eyes.

"You're not a present type of girl. Are you?"

It seemed too early in whatever was happening with us, for him to be buying me gifts. "Presents are wonderful," I replied in earnest. "Barring human heads and fruitcake."

"I usually don't go around giving out severed body parts as gifts," he returned, handing me the bag. "Though I think getting a severed ear would be less off putting than a cake that could double as a doorstop."

I rustled with the bag for a second and removed the tissue wrapped article. A gray Oasis tee appeared from out of the folds. I was at a loss, there was nothing cohesive forming in my brain.

"I figured, who better to keep it?" His eyes were soft as he continued. "Taking it to a dry-cleaner seemed too risky."

The explanation simple, but created a vast, rapid under-toe. He was entrusting his life to me. Any responsibility I'd previously placed upon myself meant nothing compared to this, and I had never been more frightened or immediately, unquestionably dedicated.

His blurted sentence derailed my rapid train of thought. "I'm leaving tonight."

I don't know why this information surprised me so much. He clearly didn't live here and I knew there was a point where we would have to say our goodbyes. I didn't understand my immediate upset. My feelings must have registered on my face, because Edward quickly continued. "It's not permanent."

I looked at him, confused. Wouldn't it be permanent? He was going back to where he belonged, and presumably, there was no place for me there.

He continued. "What I mean to say is... This...What we have. I'm not leaving that."

"Is there someone else?" It seemed a ridiculous question, but one I couldn't go without asking.

He appeared hurt by the accusation. "No. Fuck no. Christ Bella, I've just got to get my shit together for a while. I came here to _die_ last night. I don't want to drag you down into all my issues, okay?"

I nodded in understanding. Who was I to get upset with him?

He didn't know what Pierce had told me. Additionally, I didn't know where exactly Edward would fit into my life. With as often as I moved around, and kept odd hours and risked myself I wasn't good company to keep either, but the thought of him going back to whatever circumstances brought him to Vegas enraged and disturbed me.

"Your issues will still be there when you get back."

He understood what I was implying. "It's not the same."

"You've been gone a day."

He smiled softly and stroked my cheek. "A lot can happen in a day."

I let out a slow breath, knowing I no control and no idea what was going on. "I want you back in one piece. One, living, breathing piece."

A kiss to my forehead only calmed my nerves somewhat. "Sooner than you think."

I turned my head to look up at him, the grin on my face wide. "Within the year, right?"

He scoffed and hugged me. "Much, much sooner than that, baby. There's no way I could stay away that long."

I sighed and ran my fingers through his hair, my lips nipped along his neck. I felt like I'd been promised something wholly unreachable. He wanted to come back to me and it was causing my head to swim.

I could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke again. "I'd miss my shirt."

A few hours later, I gave him a final kiss and told him honestly that I would miss him, regardless if he only missed his shirt. It wasn't everything I really wanted to say, but the actual emotions and sentiments were lost in the bigger picture.

He was leaving.

I was going to be alone again, and for the first time I wasn't entirely sure how I felt about that.

He faltered getting into his car, and the valet was annoyed and tapping his foot by the time Edward reclaimed his keys.

He honked his horn as he pulled away, speeding through the other traffic in the expansive exit. I laughed to myself and reluctantly walked away. Making a path to the fountains one last time, I stood in the same spot where we met nearly twenty-four hours ago. Staring out, the water danced and jumped seeming so free, instead of so very choreographed and controlled by computers and engineered timing. All the things we couldn't see, but we wouldn't be here staring at the show without.

I didn't know when Edward would be back, but something told me he would be and that whomever was controlling our show, had already choreographed our next steps.

**A/N: **Peeks out from under rock** I'm still here. Just overrun with a pesky thing called real life. **

**Mad love to anyone who is still reading despite the slowness of updates and to my beta love tp1pod—cause she is my wonderwall:) **

**What's the verdict? We know a few more things now and some of the ust is gone, but you know absence makes the heart grow fonder and the hormones get crazier. ;) **

**Wrote a O/S for Fandom4LLS "Signs Point to Yes" (humor/romance/twilight)- Please visit their website and donate to this wonderful cause. Tons of authors, multi-fandom compilation- take the time and go now! .com**

**Everything is about to get going quickly now, we might even hear from Edward next...I haven't decided. **

**Until next time. **


	6. Friend

BPOV

"No comment."

Jake's lament and disapproval was ingrained on his face, as he hung up the phone. The last several days had been harrowing, and I was all too aware of the bags forming under my eyes from lack of sleep.

"You're going to have to issue a statement of some kind, Swanee." Jake placed a hand on my shoulder as he rounded into the kitchen. "We can't have people calling at all hours like this."

He was right of course, but I disliked the fact that I was going to have to turn my project into a personal defense system.

"Jenks said it wouldn't even go to trial. In fact, no lawsuit has been filed."

"Is that really the point here?" Jake was beyond frustrated with me, the ensuing speech was sure to mimic the message he'd been advocating for days. "An aging douche who's family is

entangled with the media has managed to paint you as a violent, slut who should be locked up! The damage has been done, lawsuit or not."

His mug of tea clanked the ceramic counter harshly, as a pointed stare came my way. As it turned out, the misogynist who I detoured from attempted rape, happened be a second cousin to an heir of a mega conglomerate media outlet. The security tape from the night of me beating him almost to death, had been grossly edited and playing across the country on every news outlet for days.

The misogynist, henceforth known as Aro Volturi, speaks frailly from his hospital bed for a few seconds before spliced bits of the security tape are shown. The part where I proceed to unforgivingly knock him to the ground plays three times, before they cut back to him. The following ministrations to save his life, suspiciously don't make an appearance.

_How terribly inconvenient. It's a good thing I have acquaintances in the "handing your ass to you" department_.

"I'm supposed to paint _him_ as the villain instead? Is that it?"

The corner of Jake's mouth perked up slightly, and his shoulders relaxed. "It's known as 'flipping the script,' Swanee."

I scowled childishly at him, leave it to Jake to use urban dictionary terms in order to give me advice.

"It's not a simple as you make it sound. I don't want to engage in some media showdown, it will discredit everything I've voiced over the last ten years. Clemency, humanitarianism..." I stressed the words with my hands and rested my back against our laminate counter. "It's not something I want to do if I can help it. It's heinous enough I was forced to throttle him, I don't want to do it publicly too."

He swallowed down the last of his green tea, and came closer to me, his features building with emotion. "Do you remember, what you said to me? When you...found me."

I was struck by his question. Remembering the conversation pristinely, as it began in my head. Immediately, I shut off the memory and walked into the living room.

"I said lots of things to you."

Quick footsteps followed behind, his bare feet making less noise on the carpeted floor of the living room as they reached me. I didn't look up at him, it wasn't a conversation I wanted to recount just then.

I had larger issues to ignore.

"You told me to fight back next time," he uttered into a soundless room, his voice thick. "Don't let this asshole defame you and destroy your name. Or I swear to God Swanee, I will go on every network, and webcast I can find and tell them what you did for me. Sparing no fucking detail."

Incensed by his blackmail, I told him I was going out. Jake and I seldom fought, but when we did, it wasn't pretty.

"Out to what? Out to the photojournalist stalking the house, looking for a few more videos of you to insidiously edit? Do you want people to run from you? The majority of people will believe only what they hear and if you refuse to fight back it's like an admission of guilt. "

His assertion stopped me. "I _am_ guilty Jake. I nearly killed him."

"You were protecting yourself."

"I could have done things differently."

I relieved the scene countless times in my head. My impulsiveness, the thousand other ways I could have simply pushed him away, or screamed for help. It made me contemplate whether there would have been anybody like me nearby to intervene?

Could I possibly be nearby next time to intervene, if I was labeled as an geriatric abusing monster?

More importantly, would I be there to meet someone like Edward? If I hadn't been helping Angela with her shifts, if I hadn't been carrying on with my mission, if I had given up as many times as I'd thought about it or felt forced to, I wouldn't have been standing in front of the casino at that moment.

The moment where I received a physical manifestation that everything I'd sacrificed had not been in vain.

Meeting Edward and saving him from himself, and thereby saving him for me. Could I have lived with myself if I hadn't?

I never would have known him or seen his scandalous smile. I wouldn't know what his lips tasted like or know the warmth of his embrace.

_That would have been the true crime. _

The thought cinched my decision to do one of my rare, live broadcasts and give people the truth. At the very least, it would create doubt and allow me to continue with Project Etch.

"I'm going to the mattresses, Jake."

He smiled and hugged me, our tiff forgotten as he told me I was doing the right thing. I wish doing the "right thing" wasn't such an objective thing.

I walked timidly down the hall into the blue walled room in the back corner of the house. The right wall over my desk had a detailed paper map of the county on it and an assortment of red pushpins pressed into various places.

All of them marked places I had been over the last several years. Detroit, New Orleans, all throughout the MidWest and into parts of Alaska. California was more recent, though it seemed a lifetime ago, I gave a man change for the bus when he was a quarter short. After I dropped the quarter into his hand with a smile, he replied.

"_Thanks Isa, want to sit in the back with me? The crazy lady who talks to herself is going to take my usual seat." _

_After seeing the muttering lady with feathers in her graying strands of coarse hair, take the seat he motioned to, I found it prudent to follow him. _

It was the start of a tumultuous friendship with an aspiring tattooist slash, Cupid impersonating manipulator.

I touched the lower part of California and found myself wondering what Edward was doing. Wondering If he was receiving any type of help or if he had anyone to rely on. I wondered if he was thinking about me. I silently vowed to call him to check in, as soon as I placed this witch hunt behind me.

It was a pleasant distraction from my impending task. I felt as if I was dragging myself to the gallows, rather than to be pardoned.

With a touch of a few buttons, my computer came to life and my typical music started playing. I chose Dashboard Confessional's _Vindicated_ as my musical backdrop. As I sat down at my chair, I willed the words to come to me. I began filtering my thoughts carefully. I would have to carefully place them into sentences that not only exonerated me, but allowed me to pass on a positive message of tolerance and forgiveness.

I watched the red light go solid as I found my voice.

"Welcome to Project Etch." It was a weighted beginning, my heart heavy as I attempted to focus.

"Judging by the many comments I have received here, and the random media outlets scrambling to get a statement from me regarding recent events, I felt obliged to give my side of the actual happenings of the night in question."

I paused, and I had to repress a smile as my brain delivered me the verbal cornucopia I desperately needed.

"An elderly member of our community has me designated me as a ferocious deviant. However, despite my crimes against him, here I sit, to speak and construe to you the actual events of the evening."

I settled in my chair, knowing I was going to be planted there for a considerable amount of time. "Am I above the law? Hardly. I am sitting here because despite his witch hunt, I remain the innocent. I will not refer to myself as a victim of his malicious intent to rape me."

It felt gloriously freeing to admit to what had actually happened. "I am not a victim, and I'm not one because I chose to defend myself. I chose to fight and protect my future. Promoting a message of humanitarianism in the world is my future, I refused to let him rob me of that."

My voice reeked of defiant righteousness as I continued.

"Though if my potential attacker, would have behaved as a gentleman, rather than a self-indulgent savage, I wouldn't have been in a position to help save someone else's life that evening. And for that I'm grateful for the situation. It brought a wonderful new..." I hesitated. " '_friend' _into my life."

_Friends have torrid one night suite sexepades and have matching tattoos. _

"Unfortunately, the events of meeting said...friend...have been severely tarnished, and my ability spread my message of peace, inhibited. So, its with dismay that I release the actual footage from the night in question, and let you discover the truth for yourselves."

"For those of you who don't speak_ Geek_, that means this nasty douche has fucked up her night of 'bow chicka wow wow' with a walking Dionysus! Stop the hate and shoot the blame where blame is due. Feast off the truth!"

I glared at Jake, severely annoyed by his less than eloquent interruption, but he simply shrugged and grinned like an impish child while he reached for my computer. It was fortunate we had been at a Las Vegas casino and that every angle of that altercation had been filmed by every security camera within range. Luckily, the lead security officer had a crush on me and it didn't hurt to wear a push-up bra to ask him for a copy.

The angel was frowning and waxing her halo, the devil sat perched in her superiority singing the praises of padded undergarments.

With a mouse click, the remainder of the video that hadn't been previously aired appeared on screen and began being broadcast. The part where he grabbed me first, when I defended myself and where I was pushed into people by his still unknown companion. I watched that part intently, seeing for the first time, my initial contact with Edward. I watched as Volturi fell to the ground, and I darted over to them and began CPR.

I also let the part where I spoke to police play. I saw something in the corner of the screen, Edward had indeed tried to casually obtain my attention while I stood there speaking. It made me smile as I went to shut off the video and make a closing statement, but instead of turning it off, I managed to speed it up.

I thought it was going to fade to black, but it was Edward and I kissing in front of the fountain the following morning.

"Shit," I hissed, shutting the feed off immediately. I did ask for any footage containing me, I should have looked at the content more carefully.

I heard Jake gasp as I spoke quickly in an attempt to save face.

"At any rate, I have staked a claim...in my innocence," I faltered momentarily, "I have a resolute commitment to compassion and passive resistance, but given his threats and my desire to preserve myself and my ability to aid others in the future, I was left with no options and acted accordingly."

I sighed heavily, feeling a great amount of weight lifted off my shoulders by the admission. There was only one thing left to say. "Mr. Volturi, if you happen to see this, I sincerely hope you are resting comfortably and taking stock after your brush with death. Life is too precious to spend it slinging mud and perpetuating half-truths, let's take this opportunity to bury the hatchet and allow ourselves to decompress and grow."

The red light dimmed and the pressure was off, but an new layer of complexity had been added in the last several seconds of video. Edward and I kissing wasn't supposed to be anywhere but in our memories, now it had been streamlined into my exoneration.

I growled at the screen, as Jake's laugh came up from beside me.

"It's not funny."

He laughed louder. His childlike giggle was infectious and I couldn't curb my smile. "It's absolutely hysterical actually."

I turned down the volume of the music before chastising him. "Jake."

"Come on, Swanee! Miss Perfect didn't bother to check if her precursory, fountain, mouth-fucking was on the footage?"

"I was a little distracted." I glanced at him, the grin was still plastered to his face.

His swelling relief was palpable as we sat there and the room somehow seemed brighter as midnight closed in. The compulsion to hug him was overwhelming as we sat there together, basking in the glow of pseudo victory and friendship, so I leaned in and wrapped my arms around him, squeezing with what little strength I had left. His broad body somehow fit perfectly in my tiny embrace, and his reciprocating arms found strength I didn't know they possessed.

"You know you're my favorite, right?" The whisper sounded like in shout in comparison to the nearly soundless room. The confession too big for the minimal space. I told him before, that over anyone else I'd helped, he was always going to be my favorite. Even if I couldn't keep him indefinitely.

He pulled back slightly, and a skeptic grin distorted his full lips. "I'm starting to wonder if that's true lately." A directed look from his deep brown eyes, had me following his gaze and landing in the same place as Edward's Oasis tee shirt. It had a permanent home hanging on the front of my closet.

"I promised him I'd keep it safe." I blanched and looked away from Jake's astute stare. I didn't want to divulge my unhealthy obsession with a faded gray piece of fabric.

Never mind the man who'd worn it or how I was feeling about our lack of communication.

"Does keeping it safe mean trying it on and inhaling it?" Jake's snicker-filled, call-out caused me to huff and jump out of the chair I was in. Thoroughly embarrassed by his irrepressible insistence to know everything going on behind closed doors, I floundered in my rebuff as I made my way towards the door. "Does the word privacy mean nothing to you?"

He shrugged and rose to his feet. "I lost my dictionary, though I still remember the meaning to 'smitten' and 'infatuated.'"

"How about 'nosy' and 'intrusive?' Still have a handle on those?" I couldn't convey the level of upset I wanted to. It was entirely too difficult to be upset with Jake. Every ounce of his physical form screamed of strength and valor, but I only saw a young, vulnerable child with a heart as big as the earth when I looked into his eyes.

"It's okay to have a crush on Fancy Face," he deflected. "Suicidal is better than homicidal."

"I don't..." I stopped short. For as long as I'd known him, I'd never lied to Jake. It was invariably the key element on which our friendship rested. I was the first person he'd met who hadn't lied to him and I couldn't continue to lie to myself either.

"I don't know how I feel," I admitted, entering the living room. "It's...this is completely uncharted."

Pierce would argue that all of it was foreseen and every last spot of ink on Edward's tattoo would collaborate his story. I'd never mentioned his prediction to Jake, it never seemed pertinent. However, now, the omission felt like a lie even if I still refused to believe in it's validity.

I was retrofitting my tiny slice of denial, and holding up there for as long as possible.

Jake flopped on the couch next to me, his gaze directed upwards, dissecting me into indecipherable pieces for several long seconds. "Not everything in your life can be navigated with a map and a pushpin."

His heart was permanently adorned to his sleeve. He made no qualms about voicing his emotions or opinions, but the opinion he voiced the loudest is how he was afraid of losing me someday. Of course, that was entirely my fault. I told him from day one how I lived my life; the constant travel and passion for helping those in need didn't take a holiday, for friends or personal needs. It was a part of who I was, and when I deemed it necessary I would be on to the next location, to the next group or person who needed my assistance.

And ultimately I would leave him behind, but I could never forget about him.

Because he was my favorite.

***Etch***

Several days passed, and I spent my time visiting Ben and Angela and trying to keep myself grounded. A few awkward moments passed when I was recognized as the 'woman from the news' at my dry cleaners, and the young girl at the grocery store spared a few more moments of staring than necessary.

I compared it to when I was a senior in high school and had a very large pimple in the middle of my forehead. I was mortified at the time, but I would take oily skin in a heartbeat compared to why I was the focus of attention this time.

I loaded the groceries into the back of the Prius and took off down the road, wondering what awaited me at home. It was only a few hours after the live broadcast when the comments section of the website exploded. Although, they weren't angry or negative anymore, they were all completely irrelevant however.

_You and the guy at the end make a cute couple._

_Is that your boyfriend?_

_Guess we know what you two were doing later;)_

All the rest were the same variation. All completely disinterested in anything I'd said, as most of the responses to my vindication were filled with dirty comments and emoticons.

Which in any other situation, I could appreciate.

I was only a few blocks away from the house when my phone rang repeatedly and finally chirped. I waited until I pulled in the driveway to look at the display. Although I shouldn't have been, I was beyond surprised to see Edward's name there.

My panic went into overdrive, instantly wondering why he would have been calling me.

_Was he okay?_

_Did he need help?_

_Was it a booty call?_

The devil was smirking casually while straightening her dress, the angel was attempting to read psalms and ignore her cackling.

I immediately attempted to return the call, but it went to voicemail and the box was full. I frowned and told myself I'd try again in a little while. Instead, I listened to the voicemail he left. I could only discern every third word and they were all incredibly unhelpful; his name, later, angry, and call. Obviously, the connection was bad and it left me with little information, but something was definitely amiss.

**I'm at your beck and call, providing you answer your phone. **

I sent the text with little thought, but my infallible intuition screaming at me that something was wrong.

Several minutes passed with no response. Before I knew it, I'd been staring at my phone willing it to ring for well over half an hour. Ignoring my overwhelming concern to my reaction, and cursing myself for forgetting my bluetooth, I climbed out the car and began unloading the contents of the trunk. Jake was still at work, so I unloaded the car by myself and put everything away. Our decent sized panty was bursting with all kinds of items, including coffee and cheese puffs. I reluctantly decided to check on the comment section of the blog to see what insanity had transpired there since I left.

As I walked into my room, I saw the familiar Oasis tee hanging from the door.

I tried listening to Edward's message again and again, by the seventh time and beyond frustrated, I attempted another text.

**A little worried at your lack of response, if you're not in mortal danger I'd like to hear from you.**

I could only hope Edward was blissfully unaware of any of this and was only calling to reminisce. He didn't need any added complications to his otherwise, presumably upturned life. Discovering our kiss was broadcast to thousands of people simultaneously wasn't bound to help him recover any.

Or bring him back any sooner.

I finally managed to sit at my computer to peruse the comment section, but the new slew of opinions littering up the page disappointed me. Hundreds upon hundreds of them commenting on my kiss with Edward rather than Project Etch or my vindication.

I decided to send them all a lenient reminder regarding the purpose of the blog. Learning my lesson, I posted my words in the comment section directly.

_I think some of you are missing the point I was attempting to make. Who I was with in the latter half of the video is of no consequence, he and I are friends and that is all the further knowledge I'm going to divulge. The main focus is to help create the type of world you want to live in, by making the actions you take count. Remember, the words written on your skin should not include nosy or gossip. _

I felt very self-satisfied as I sat there and read it over once or twice before I sent it off. However, the stress of everything had finally caught up to me. I felt like I'd been mentally trampled, the contents of my mind were strewn in all corners in places I couldn't reach. I was only semi conscious I'd taken off my clothes and started the shower before I stepped inside.

Trying to piece my feelings about Edward together while the hot water poured over me was counter productive. It led me to wonder if his mouth would still hold the same fervency and provocative taste that it did a couple of weeks ago, if we were in there together.

The devil was intrigued and manifested an image of it to tide me over, the angel simply replayed his garbled message, which immediately killed the fantasy.

When I got out of the shower, I could hear Jake in the kitchen, muttering something about "awesome cheese puffs." I contemplated wearing my regular pajamas, but Edward's shirt was hanging right there, and being the disillusioned masochist I was, I decided to put it on.

I admired myself for a minute and tried to ignore the goofy feeling I had racing through me, as I looked at the blog once again. The contents had gotten worse as they poured in and were starting to become international.

In the last several minutes there were some from; London, Dallas, Sydney, and San Diego. I aided most everyone in the states, but the message of altruism had noticeably traveled over seas.

Or at least the interest in the kiss I had shared with Edward had.

_I should be thankful the rooms don't have cameras in them, or Paris Hilton and I would have more in common than I thought possible_.

The blog had caught more attention than I was comfortable with, and for all the wrong reasons. The doppelganger image of my tattoo at the top, and the red and black accents were becoming a host for predatory comments and detracting themes.

The latest one was anonymous, _ I know who you are, now. I'll be seeing you shortly._

The angel was discontented, yet the devil had little time to declare war before a phone call made me jump.

"Fancy Face is blowing up your phone, Swanee," Jake informed with a laugh, as he handed my phone to me.

I blew out a breath to answer it, the largest relief and a subtle panic gripped me before Jake placed the phone down in front of me and went into the living room to answer a knock I scarcely heard.

"Hello?"

"Bella? Edward...Edward Cullen," He clarified as if I had somehow forgotten.

The relief took over the second I hear him speak. "You're okay."

"As good as to be expected."

Alarm bells sounded in my head as I tried to calculate what he meant, infusing his utterance with any type of meaning other than general malaise.

"I hope things are turned around for the better?"

"That depends," he mused. "Are you taking care of my shirt?"

I smiled and placed my hand against the wall for support. He didn't know anything about what had been transpiring, he'd been too busy reconstructing his life to catch anything about me on the news.

_At the very least he was safe. _

"It's hanging in my closet, still in pristine condition," I lied abruptly.

I couldn't very well tell him I was wearing it, it would make me seem crazy.

_As opposed to everything else about you which just screams "normal." _

I was a labyrinth, cloaked in an enigma, that not even Opera had a snowball's chance in hell at unwrapping.

I took a few steps into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Slowly, I decided on orange juice and pursued the cabinet for a glass, while waiting for his response.

"That's good to know, I'd hate to think someone was wearing it and about to spill...something like orange juice on it."

The voice was suddenly not in my ear any longer, but behind me and the end of his sentence was cut off by Jake's laughter.

"Swanee, look who stopped by to see your lying ass."

I was stunned into muteness by his appearance. It was a habitual, uncontrollable affect of seeing him, apparently.

_Like breathing. _

His undeniably anxious face held a hard edge to it and there was more stubble on his jaw, but his eyes didn't dupe me for a second. They held me in a malachite trance for what must've been too long for Jake's attention span.

"Earth to the heteros?" Jake snapped his fingers twice before I managed to recover any remembrance of how to use my vocal chords.

"Hi."

A small grin melded with Edward's greeting. "Hi."

Jake laughed. "Verbose group we have here."

I relaxed a little, taking a breath and set the orange juice down. I was still staring at him as if he were a ghost. Contemplating all the reasons he was standing in front of me, but not caring simultaneously. I could handle whatever the reason was. Although, the selfish parts of me were certainly hoping it was simply because he wanted to see me.

"I'm really glad you're here." I was truly happy to see him, though I didn't understand the exact reason for his quick resurgence. There seemed to be an solidness to him, the Edward I remembered wasn't as sturdy as the one who stood before me. A confidence I hadn't seen previously exuded from him, and his eyes flickered with shrewd sparks.

"What are _friends_ for?"

Jake shrugged, smirking as he strode away and into his room. Edward's inflection on the word friend did not go unnoticed by me. I took a step back and regarded him carefully, he took my pause as an invitation to speak again.

"Although, _friends_ fill each other in, let the other know when they're in trouble." His tone was matter of fact, and it was clear he was making some type of inference, the word _friend_ kept the same connotation. "When some asshat is making false accusations against them..."

I rolled my eyes at his dramatics, the tenor his voice took on was slightly comical, but I forced myself not to speak. Obviously, he knew everything, or at least enough to come and berate me for it. He continued on, but the discord in his voice lessened in severity.

"That's something _friends_ would tell one another."

I looked away and out the window, the soft lights of the evening were giving way to the neons of the night. "It's not something you could've helped with."

He didn't respond for several beats, the kitchen rang with my rebuttal. "It's still something I would want to know."

The implication of what he was saying cut through the awkwardness. He wanted to know when something happened to me. He had a vested interest in my turmoils.

The unassuming question tumbled away from my lips before I could silence myself. "Why?"

_The love of your life would have a vested interest in you. _

_My thoughts took on Pierce's accent and an insanely, almighty skew of "I-told-you-so." _

He quickly strode over to me. "You have a blog trying to incite a national movement of generosity and humanitarianism," he breathed. "And you just asked me why I'd care to know if you're in trouble?"

"It was a mission statement," I corrected. "It's wasn't meant to..."

He cut me off. A sadistic fire confined to his eyes burned and indignation flared in the smoke.

"You saved my life. I owe you everything; my concern, my empathy, I owe you..."

Before I could tell him he didn't owe me an iota of anything, my ass was planted on my kitchen table and Edward's lips were giving me everything he thought he owed me. His criminally artistic, indebted mouth repaid my lips with a sweet suspension of lavish, scorching bestowments. With every delve of his tongue and movement of of his fingers steadying my head, our kisses grew deeper, richer and freer. His lips dragged away from mine momentarily and went to my ear again. "It's so fucking hard to be pissed at you."

"If this is you angry...I should piss you off more often."

I _wondered how irate he would need to be in order to fuck me right there on the table. _

His lips skimmed mine. "I was angry while I was driving here, but it was for all the wrong reasons."

"Misplaced anger is dangerous."

The devil was listing off words like erotic and seductive, while the angel took out her harp to drown out the moaning.

"It's not misplaced. I'm still pissed at you, but I understand why now." He surrendered my lips completely. He hesitated momentarily, the words played with his thoughts before he forced them from his mouth. "Did you help me solely because of the blog?"

I sighed and shook my head. Because I knew I was going to have to lie. I couldn't tell him the blog was the sole reason, because it wasn't.

"Compassion, Edward," I relayed, semi-truthfully. "It was _compassion_ that drove me. But you were...different."

I was hoping it would be enough to quell his doubt, but it wasn't.

"Why?" His mimicked question clung to the stale air in our tiny space, taking up the oxygen and suffocating me under the weight of what I didn't want to tell him.

"Because of the tattoo, because of the way I feel about protecting you, because...it's you," I explained, without explaining.

"And who am I?" His stare held me. A figurative pendulum swung in the backdrop of his desperate question. "You know hardly anything about me. I could be a serial killer sizing up my next skin coat."

Jake appeared again, his hands were covering his eyes as he reached for the light switch. "Save the dramatics Fancy Face. She's not afraid of anything except spiders. She'd sooner cut off her skin and hand it to you, than to deal with one of the eight-legged freaks."

Edward glanced at me, a glint of levity resided in his eyes as Jake spoke again and the light flicked on. We both groaned at the exposure and the unsolicited light scarring our retinas.

"Besides, you're not a serial killer. _Are you_?" The last two words were weighted with knowledge.

Edward appeared momentary panicked as he glanced at me and helped me off the table. Jake's smug simper was somewhat humorous as Edward stiffened. "Someone's got some 'splaining to do, Lucy."

"What are you talking about, Jake?" I peeked at Edward while Jake proceeded.

"Your car out front is roughly worth three hundred thousand dollars and you smell like ...Dior," Jake deduced quickly with a indelicate sniff. "I know what you are."

Edwards gaze turned to me, an apologetic look lingered there, then it turned to annoyance as Jake spoke again. "You want to tell her about you IMDB page or should I?"

The concern and unease that had been steadily collecting and knotting within my stomach, tightened further, as my glare fluctuated between the two of them. "A little enlightenment, Edward?"

Edward relaxed slightly. "Fine, I used to be a screenwriter. There. Big bad secret out. I had _one_ film, _one_ credit and it was a long time ago."

"One film that won a shit ton of awards, was a favorite at Tribeca, Toronto and Sundance and spawned articles about you in Vanity Fair and Variety."

Jake filled in the blanks a little too quickly, and Edward was less than enthused.

"I just wrote it. I...wish I hadn't...it's fucking over." The pain of whatever he was recalling stretched his voice thin.

The familiar room titled on its access, and everything seemed to accelerate. The strange sensation of falling gripped me, although I stayed upright when I questioned him. "The one about the little boy with the cinder blocks?"

"Yeah," he answered succinctly, his breath labored. "That's it."

"Asshole," I muttered absently. "He knew. Even then, he knew."

_After riding on the bus with Pierce for forty-five minutes and me having no clue where we were going, I finally asked him and he reflexively answered. _

"_We're going to the movies, indie art house. They're running some great stuff, Isa."_

_I didn't see how going to the movies with him would be particularly productive, and since he didn't seem to need my help, I decided my night could be put to better use. "I'm not much of a movie goer, think I'll be splitting off from you soon." _

"_I'd rather you not," he countered. "You see, because in a few seconds, you're going to get a bump on your head and you really shouldn't be alone after getting injured."_

"_I'm perfectly fine," I argued, slightly appalled at his ridiculous assumption. "I'm not going to..." Before the words word out of my mouth, the bus went over a pothole and someone hit me in the head with a box they'd been holding, but had inadvertently shifted. _

_I was eating humble pie and holding my throbbing head, as we made it into the tiny theater lobby. The posters for the films on display by their respective showings. _

"_This is the one we want, Isa," Pierce relayed brusquely as he guided me to the door. I only managed to read the title as he ushered me through the doorway. _

"_Who's the director?" I asked trying navigate the narrow isle. _

"_It's not the director we want to remember, it's the writer," he explained firmly. "You'd do well to remember his name."_

"_Who's name?" I questioned, still only paying attention to the throb. _

_"Edward Cullen."_

_However, with the rush of blood to my head and the sound of the opening score coming on, his name was lost on me and only remembered for a fleeting second._

I must've stored it somewhere, subconsciously for all these years. My familiarity with his name wasn't a fluke.

"He knew. He told me and..." I was pacing around the room. "The only thing he talked about after the movie is how badly he wanted..."

Jake's joke broke into my rambling. "Swanee, you're scaring the straight."

"Son of a bitch," I exclaimed harshly to no one.

It felt even more like Pierce's poppet and less like my own person the more I thought about our encounter. I was rapidly coming to a conclusion I didn't want to. The orchestration of everything was yielding results only a savant could have predicted.

"Bella?"

Edward's unsettled voice prompted me to look at him. The guarded, uncertain expression seized his once confident eyes. I opened my mouth, unsure of anything that stood in the moment with me. I couldn't think of a cohesive thing to say. All the words tumbled around in my head, undecipherable and undeliverable as I closed my mouth again.

My eyes didn't waver, locked with his.

_My oasis. _

I bit my cheek to keep the rapidly bubbling emotions subdued, controlled. The tiny child with the cinder blocks forced back into my unwilling subconscious.

My response was barely audible. "Nothing, I've seen it. That's all."

"Great. New subject?" Edward appeared to relax, incredibly eager to move on to anything else.

My accusatory question was pointed at Jake. "When were you planning on sharing this information?"

"I only found out this morning," Jake defended. "I didn't want you to be falling for someone who was a fucking escaped con or who wore flannel or something."

"I never said I was falling for him," I responded before I thought better of it.

"That's okay, go on talking like I'm not here," Edward complained. "Bella. Look, we both weren't very fourth coming about our personal lives or occupations or lack thereof. Does it really matter what I used to be? I'm not a criminal."

"Well, you're not wearing flannel, that's a step in the right direction," Jake retorted, "and that ass in those jeans I just..."

"Jake!"

Jake huffed. "Alright, I'll be in my room. Keep your kinky hetero asses off the kitchen table. I eat there and don't want to find a pube in my cereal."

"So," Edward started after several long, awkward moments. "You're a human rights crusader with a blog and a brand."

I smiled at the succinct description, and at the way he reverently brushed his tattoo with his thumb.

"And you're a formally suicidal screenwriter with a soft spot for Oasis, I suppose that's a start." I skimmed his tattoo with the same admiration, awestruck by what I remembered and paralyzed by it in the same instance.

"I tell you anything else you want to know."

I believed he would tell me anything. Devout and resolute, as he stood there casting me as an unqualified saint, silently whispering words of an unknown dogma.

I could hear Pierce in my head, and I could see the little boy. The tiny chid, the burden in his eyes.

_Forgotten. _

_Broken. _

I stifled the emotion, the usurping emotion which cased me to revert to a less uncomfortable one. It caused me to speak. To speak without a filter, without agenda or thought.

"I already know what's important. I know that..."

A sudden crash from the front of the house startled us, but the immediately raging flames ripping through Edward's car left me trembling.

**A/N: Yes, I know. I'm about six months late with this one. My apologies- RL is a bitchy virus for which there is no cure.**

**We know a bit more about Edward now and got a more in depth look at Bella's meeting with Pierce.**

**This wasn't beta'd so please don't pick it apart.**

**********Hopefully next chapter will be sooner rather than later. Thanks to all those who are still R &R, even with the gap in updates.**

**Sexy Silk is back on the Lemonade Stand (excuse me while I dance around the room) big thanks to Midnight Cougar for recc'ing it to them.**


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